






u 



o. V-^'/'’ ''‘V**---’ i .0 

c . n ^ * 

k . * kS 2)1 -♦ <1.' 'r6. 

m« *- 


O o 




< o ■ 
o ^ ^ 

* ' r 

^ -OHO-^ V ^ -.,,♦ .U -,.0’* 




• ^ ^ 
cy ^ 




. 0 ^ c ° r® >» ^o 

V • . O 

sP 




iA ^>A 4 t 

• ^ V 




b V 

•^o. . 0 ^ <> v^ ,«-o, %. ,s.., 

^ V ^ • ^^111^ * A V 


Lt 


” ^^^'V *° 

* 'V ^ *’ 



* *> 



jA^ . t # a ''<^ 





,0 c° 'O 


- 0 ^ 


4 o 

-Q> ^ 





V- O 'o’.'*'* 

^ .*'*■» ’^* 





0 <«5 ^ 





o V 







• <0 • 4 O . 

'» V ^ Ki *" *" ® 

♦ r> ^ 

rjj ■* • < lI ^ O ^ 

^ ^ O N 0 ^ ^ « , n • 

A." »l.!lrL'^ ^ V I>'*°- o. ,v 




f' 




^ '^rv 

\ 


* ft 


o > 


* V*' 

^ L / r 97^ 

N ^ ^hi/ 7 p^ ^ ^ 


«* r ‘b >^(IIII!fl^^ «> 

■> ■oy t-c*. * -fc A' 

0^ ^ A . 

> n N a ^ I f a 


<" 





4 o 

.V ^ 

-OL^ O ^ 

’ % V A 

,■• 'V ^ 

. •‘'TTs* A 

O A^ <1 I- ' * 4, 

'S^ 

< J^\l //>^ ■»* %<i . A 





V^ e^*o- CV 
"*■ pOC \ «» /h, '’ '^ r \ 

A v^_ 

‘ V ^ ' 

4^ « 'V * * 

0 > 0 ^ A 

Vj • O 

«i 


.0 ■'. 

<)^ ' £> N O ' S ^ 

% ' -V V ^ 


“ o 

o. A <> 



o. * 





<t 

. 0^ : 

° N O ^ O^ ^ I, , -. ■» 

A 0^ t, S V %/<*'** ° -r O. A V 

y\^ V -V t- ^ f? ^ ft V« ^ 

•'^ » A^ ^ c{(\^R A*' *“ 






' • * s ^ -A ^ "'©*>'» 0 • • - A ' 

^ A «- ' « ^ r \^ o N C A '' L » fl 


< 


\X 


o V 

O ' 





O -1^ ^ 




w 


PRICE, 50 CENTS. 

/ 


— irirn ir«i ir " ‘ 





Would the World Think? 


By OCTAVIA CLOUSTON, 

Author of “A TITLE-REJECTED.” 



THE DODWORTH PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

108-110 East 125th Street, 

NEW YORK. 



WHAT 


WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

;3l JJ'octl. 


octavia clouston, 


Author of “ A Title — Rejected/' 



JA" i:-')- 



THE DODWORTH PUBLISHING HOUSE, 
108-110 East 125TH Street, 

New York. 



Copyright, 1897, by 
OCTAVIA CLOUSTON. 
[All rights reserved.] 


DEDICATED 


WITH KINDEST REMEMBRANCES 
TO 

MY ARTIST FRIEND 
NELLIE WINIFRED DAVIES. 


THE AUTHOR, 


t. " i 






A lyih !i^f. 4. nc.j-"p.(‘)? •(ifjnin’ I'iilT 

“iilJ i-iUi bn j: ;it>vyi-i'/si vrj fl jrjap/irr-^ijiT 

h9thi. it 'i//ut (hid'// ^nhiaijf'i vtrniiu.:- 


ii hrti/(rt i<;od l.riti- v/a 

Iw -Sotl a<j{v/ :>.- V iit ^» m 1 

.-,.stf''f io ^<‘1 asait .■- v-;5t!.‘;'>V ■ 

,^»?tl mo7i 1'!f.<j n» :>i;io7»d ->iil ' 

9-y:.^Ul>X^- tti _;!( -afti/om i^'’I'£.ni -.-nu.?,' j. Vch-D? ' 


Cnii.Mov ,ii>f JO fiSU-v -nii -rlr’.i .3!:^b li:j->v> 


-ioi -(^d io nifjrtv/ rijij fiiti-w ’.iisL'T-rijair, 1,^ t»,i in 

.A'H..^ ViJl :< bit • 'f ■iiii )! .. 'V/ •'j''7>:'ll 



\- 


■} p\J '''• . ,* 


'■*jn 


F 


•'. ■ ■ ■’. •‘;** ‘h .h 

ijv • r', ■ ■• »■ • • •', 4 



PREFACE. 


The kindly reception accorded my first book, A 
Title — Rejected,'' by reviewers and readers, and the 
numerous inquiries which have reached me regarding 
the publication of another book, have encouraged me 
to offer a sketch in this volume which, I think, is as 
likely to appeal to the general reader by reason of its 
realistic touches of nature, as my first book found a 
response in the minds of those who do not approve of 
the weakness of our wealthy women for titles of Euro- 
pean nobility. 

The heroine of this story is taken in part from life, 
and is to-day a young matron moving in an exclusive 
social circle, little knowing of the slumbering volcano 
at her feet, or suspecting what the verdict of her ad- 
miring friends would be if the world only knew. 

[7] 



What 

Would the World Think? 


CHAPTER 1. 

It was growing quite dark ; the curtains were closely 
drawn to exclude the night. A lamp with a pink 
silken shade cast its soft light throughout the room, 
showing to advantage the numerous traces of refine- 
ment and a quiet display of elegance ; while the blazing 
logs on the hearth gave forth a cheerful glow. 

A handsome, though faded woman of thirty was 
lying in bed weak and ill ; her child, a girl of nine, sat 
on an ottoman near the fire, her little head resting 
on her hands, while tears from her big dark eyes 
rolled slowly down her cheeks. But they were quiet 
tears, for she was struggling bravely to keep from 
sobbing aloud lest she disturb her mother ; but the 
tears she could not suppress. 

The mother turned restlessly on her pillow with an 
occasional moan, but she was suffering more from 
fatigue and exhaustion than from actual pain. Since 
early in the afternoon she had been propped up in bed 
busily writing, and as the pages fell from her hands the 

t9] 


lO 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


hectic glow in her cheek deepened, in her eagerness 
to finish before her strength was gone. While writ- 
ing her eyes often wandered with an anxious and 
pathetic expression to the child, whose sad little face 
showed how fully she realized her mother’s serious 
condition. As the darkness began to gather, the pages 
were carefully separated and placed in envelopes, then 
she laid them under her pillow with a bitter sigh. 

^‘They’re done,” she murmured, both done. Hel- 
ena’s future is now in other hands ; I can do no more.” 

For a time she lay with closed eyes, thinking of the 
desperate step she had taken and of what she hoped 
might be the result. Then she became feverish, and 
restless with anxiety. 

Helena,” she said at last. 

Yes, mamma,” replied the child, advancing to the 
bedside. But directly she spoke her broken voice be- 
trayed her grief. 

My darling, you are crying again,” said the mother 
feebly. ‘‘ I wish you would not grieve so much — it 
makes it all the harder for me.” 

The child threw herself beside her mother, and passion- 
ately kissed the pale lips. O mamma,” she sobbed ; 
how I love you ! how dearly, dearly I love you ! ” 

I know you do, darling ; and it’s very hard for me 
to leave you. But you are a very sensible little girl, 
and will get along. But Helena, don’t ever forget me ; 
think of me every day, then you will remember me and 
know me, when we meet again in the world beyond. 
And if anyone ever says anything against me, do not 
believe what they say, do not listen to them, for there 
are people here who would tell you that which is false.” 

The child’s only answer was to bury her face in the 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


II 


bedclothes and give full vent to her pent up grief. 
The mother's heart was filled with anguish ; her burden 
seemed greater than she could bear. It was greater — 
it was cutting short her life. 

“ O God ! " she cried, I have sinned, and I am 
punished. But strengthen my child to resist tempta- 
tion, and do not let my weakness be a legacy to her." 

Mamma," the child suddenly asked, ^^what sin have 
you ever committed ? " 

A spasm of paiii settled on the woman’s face, as she 
evasively replied : “We are all sinners, my child ; 
and I ." 

“ But mamma, why are we all sinners ? ’ 

“ Because we are born so." 

“ Then, mamma, if you were born a sinner, you are 
not to blame — you couldn’t help that.’’ 

The mother smiled wearily. 

“ Mamma," the child continued, “who says we are 
all sinners ?’’ 

“ The Bible, dear ; and you know the Bible is God’s 
Word.’’ 

“ Did anybody see God come down from heaven and 
write it ? ’’ 

“ No, dear; but God inspired men to write it for Him." 

“ Am I a sinner, too ?’’ 

“ Yes, darling." 

“ How have I sinned ? Have I ever been naughty ? 
or told falsehoods or disobeyed you ?" 

“ No, dear. You have always been a good little girl." 

“ Then, mamma," the child replied with an air of 
triumph, “those men that wrote the Bible didn’t get 
inspired quite right, for I wasn’t born when they wrote 
it, and you know more about me than they did. And 


12 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


— I believe they Ve wrong about you too, mamma, for 
I don’t believe you’re a sinner.” 

Too weary to argue the matter, and content to have 
her child’s unbounded confidence, the sick woman 
turned away, and ere long was quietly sleeping. The 
child slid from the bed and crept back to her seat by 
the fire. Presently there came a low knock on the 
door. She softly opened it, and William Olney Marvin 
entered. 

He was a handsome bright-looking boy of twelve 
and known throughout the neighborhood as Billy.” 
On seeing Helena’s tear-stained face his own imme- 
diately became serious, and in a low tone he inquired 
how her mother was. She glanced anxiously toward 
the bed ; then motioning him to follow, led the way 
into an adjoining room. 

Mamma is sleeping,” she explained, ‘‘and I was 
afraid we’d waken her.” 

“ Is she any worse ?” he asked quickly. 

“ Yes ; she grows worse every day ; and oh ! Billy, 
I’m afraid she will die and leave me all alone.” 

“ Don’t cry, Helena,” he returned soothingly. 
“ Only try to believe that she’ll soon be well again. 
See here,” he continued, trying to divert her mind, 
“mother sent these to you with her love.” 

He set a willow basket on the table and removed the 
contents — a jar of beef tea, a glass of jelly, a plate of 
cold fowl and a dozen fresh-laid eggs. 

“ How good your mother is, Billy, and how good 
you are!” the child exclaimed, gratefully. “You are 
always bringing us something. I don’t know what 
we’d do, only for your mother and you. Nobody else 
seems to care ; they don’t even come to see us at all — 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


13 


nobody but the minister and the doctor, and now even 
the minister don’t come any more because he’s gone 
away.” 

‘‘ It’s a shame !” exclaimed the boy, with angry em- 
phasis. A downright shame that nobody comes — 
mother says so, too.” 

“Why don’t they come to see us? Why does 
everybody stay away so ?” 

“ I don’t know, I’m sure,” said the boy, thoughtfully. 
“ But I guess it’s because they think your mother is 
proud and feels above them. I heard Mrs. Gosper say 
once that your mother was awful stuck up, and put 
on lots of airs, just because she used to live in the 
city and wore good clothes. But between you and me, 
Helena, I think the women-folks around here, are jealous . 
because — well, because your mother’s different from 
them. Somehow, she’s more ladylike, and talks differ- 
ently, and seems different every way. They’re jealous 
of mother, too — that is, some of them are — for the 
other day Tom Marshall told me that my mother 
wasn’t any better than his, even if we did live in a big 
house and kept servant girls to do the work. And 
Ned Perkins said that his mother said my mother was 
lazy, else she’d do the work herself instead of paying 
girls to do it for her. Then Ned said something about 
^ codfish aristocracy,’ whatever he meant by that. I 
guess he didn’t know himself — he must have heard it 
from his folks.” 

“ Billy, why didn’t you come over last night ?” 
Helena asked. “ I watched for you till most nine 
o’clock.” 

“ I wanted to come,” he replied, “ but couldn’t. 
You know I come most every night, and always on 


14 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

Saturday afternoons and Sundays. But it was examin- 
ation in school to-day. So I had to study late last 
night, and then father wouldn't let me out. See," he 
continued eagerly, his fine face flushing with pride, 

here's a silver medal I've won. It's the prize for 
being the best scholar in school." 

‘‘ O Billy, I'm so glad ! What a smart boy you 
are ; and you're handsomer too, and better than any 
of the other boys." 

‘‘You don't know any of the other boys," he replied, 
his blue eyes gleaming with pleasure because of her 
praise. “ Helena," he continued earnestly, “ I wish 
you could go to school too." 

“ I can't go — I cannot leave mamma," she replied 
sadly, “ because I take all the care of her and do most 
all the work, except when Miss Nancy comes and 
washes and irons and bakes." 

You're a very wonderful little girl," he said, admir- 
ingly. “ Mother says so, too ! You ought to have a 
prize, Helena. You deserve it more than I do. But you 
didn't go to school when your mother was well — how 
is that ?" 

“ I know I didn't. Mamma didn't want me to go. 
But, Billy, you needn't think I don't know anything, 
for I do — I know lots. Mamma has taught me to read^ 
and spell, and write. And I know geography and can 
cipher. I'm way over in fractions ; and I guess I 
know as much as anybody that goes to school except 
you." 

“ It's not to learn more," said the boy, “ that I 
want you to go to school. It's to show 'em that 
you're not afraid to go." 

“Afraid?" repeated the child. “ Afraid of what?" 


WFIAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 15 

Well/' continued Billy, hesitatingly, I don't 
know just how to put it, but Ned Perkins says that 
his mother said the reason you didn't go to school or 
anywhere else, was because your mother was afraid if 
you went out, you'd hear something that she didn’t 
want you to know, and that’s why she always keeps 
you at home.” 

Helena's eyes opened wide with wonder. What 
could I hear?” she asked. 

O I don’t know. But never mind what Mrs. 
Perkins says, or what she means either,” said Billy 
reassuringly. Everybody knows she’s an old gossip, 
and a wind-bag; and I guess I'm about as bad, or I 
wouldn’t have repeated it.” 

At that moment a hacking cough reached them. 

Mamma's awake now,” said Helena, turning to re- 
enter the room. But Billy held her back. 

‘‘Don’t say anything to your mother,” he whispered, 
“ about what Mrs. Perkins said, or Mrs. Gosper either, 
or any of them. It’s not worth minding ; besides, 
she’s sick, you know, and it might fret her.” 

On entering the room he stepped to the bedside. 
“ Mrs. Channing, I hope I have not disturbed you,” 
he said. 

“ O no, not in the least,” was the faint reply. 
Her voice startled him. He detected a great change 
in her, and realized, boy though he was, that she was 
rapidly fading, and passing away. 

“ Billy, how is your mother?” she asked, presently. 

“She’s much better now, thank you ; she’s been up 
and around all day.” 

“ Do you think she is able to come over for a little 
while? I do so much wish to see her,” 


l6 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

yes, Tm sure she’ll come. I’ll go home and 
bring her right away.” And the next moment the 
boy was gone. Ere long he returned with his mother, 
a gentle, sweet-faced woman, whom he closely resem- 
bled. 

Helena, dear,” said Mrs. Channing, ^‘you and 
Billy go into the other room for a few minutes and 
play. I wish to have a quiet talk with Mrs. Marvin.” 

‘‘ I’m so glad you were able to come,” she continued, 
grasping her friend’s hand when they were alone. 

How I have missed you since you were ill. It’s been 
very lonely for Helena and me all alone, day after 
day, and week after week. But it will not last much 
longer — I am sinking fast.” 

Mrs. Marvin began mildly to protest. Don’t de- 
ceive yourself, nor try to deceive me,” returned the 
sick woman with a cheerless smile. Look at me and 
see for yourself.” 

She raised up in bed, where the light fell full on her 
face. Mrs. Marvin started in alarm; she could utter 
no word of hope — death had too plainly stamped its 
victim. 

Mrs. Channing sank back on her pillow, weak and 
trembling. But a burden was on her mind ; it must 
be disposed of before she could rest. The thought 
stimulated and nerved her to action. 

“I sent for you to-night,” she resumed with fever- 
ish eagerness, because I dared delay no longer. 
My disease is treacherous ; the coughing spells come 
when least expected, and I fear every one will be the 
end. You are my only friend and adviser, Mrs. Mar- 
vin, and — I am so troubled about Helena, I felt that 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


17 


I must consult with you concerning her, and see 
if ” 

My dear friend,” interrupted Mrs. Marvin, ease 
your mind at once so far as Helena is concerned. 
You know how fond I am of the child ; and my 
friendship for you, aside from my fondness for her, 
would prompt me to look after her if she were left 
alone.” 

A look of intense relief came to the dying woman’s 
eyes. Will you take her with you into your own 
home, and care for her there ?” 

Yes. I will take her, and try to be a good mother 
to her, for her sake, and for yours,” was the earnest 
reply. 

If you will only keep her until she is fifteen years 
old, I shall be satisfied,” said Mrs. Channing, for I 
have, I trust, made provision for her after that.” 

Mrs. Marvin looked at her wonderingly, but a vio- 
lent coughing spell seized the sick woman which pre- 
vented any further explanation. 


CHAPTER II. 

After Mrs. Marvin and Billy returned home, Mrs. 
Channing called her child to the bedside. Helena, 
darling,” she said ; go upstairs and open that black 
chest in the back room ; and in the bottom on the 
left hand side, you will find a wicker basket, which I 
want you to bring to me.” 

The child soon returned. The mother removed 


1 8 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

from the basket an elegant jewel case. On the inside 
cover was a gold plate, bearing the inscription : ‘‘To 
Gertrude, from Sidney.’' Mrs. Channing took from 
the case a slender gold chain, to which was attached a 
little gold key. Then from under her pillow she 
withdrew the two letters which she had spent the 
afternoon in writing. Both were in sealed envelopes. 
One was addressed : “ Helena Channing. To be 
opened on her fifteenth birthday.” The other letter was 
much larger, containing several closely-written pages, 
and was addressed : “ Mr. Sidney Bryan, No. — Wall 
Street, New York.” 

Mrs. Channing placed the letters in the jewel-case, 
but after meditating a moment removed them again. 
“ Helena, dear,” she said, “ hand me my writing-desk 
and the lamp.” 

Then from the desk she took a stick of fancy seal- 
ing wax and a seal, on which her monogram was 
prettily interwoven. The letter addressed to Helena 
remained as it was, but the one to Mr. Sidney Bryan 
she sealed with a big strong seal, the monogram stand- 
ing out in bold relief. 

“There,” she muttered; “no one can ever tamper 
with it now.” 

Again the letters were placed in the jewel-case, 
which was locked with the key. Then placing the 
key on the chain, she handed it to Helena, saying : 
“ Put this around your neck, darling, and never re- 
move it until your fifteenth birthday. Then unlock 
this jewel case and read the letter addressed to you. 
and carefully follow its direction's. But under no cir 
cumstances are you to open the other letter, or tc 
permit anyone else to do so. Promise me this, dear 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


19 


The child faithfully promised. 

“ Now/' continued the mother ; after I am gone, 
you are to live with Mrs. Marvin until you are fifteen 
years old, the letter will direct you after that." 

Exhausted with over-exertion, the poor woman then 
fell asleep ; but many times during the night she 
moved uneasily and murmured: “Dear Sidney." 
Suddenly she sat up in bed — a wild look in her eyes ; 
and grasping the sleeping child, exclaimed : 

“ Promise me once again, Helena, that you will 
never read the other letter, and that you will love me 
always, and think kindly of me, no matter what they 
may say. And," she added, clutching her more firmly, 
“promise that you will not listen to them, for although 
I have done wrong, I have always been a good mother 
to you !" 

The child lovingly promised to heed her in all she 
had asked. Then her heavy eyelids again drooped, 
and soon she was soundly sleeping. That promise 
was the last word spoken to her mother. When next 
she awakened, her mother lay beside her cold and still — 
her wearied body at rest ; her troubled soul released. 

Helena was an orphan ; without a known relative in 
all the world ; with no friends except Mrs. Marvin and 
Billy. As for the other residents of Clydesville, the 
little farming hamlet in which Mrs. Channing died, as 
is too often the case, they showed far more respect (?) 
to the dead, than they had to the living. A morbid 
curiosity prompted them to the cottage where the 
dead woman lay, whom for years they had shunned. 

Nine years before the opening of this story Robert 
Channing — Helena's father — brought his young and 
beautiful wife to the cottage to live with his mother. 


20 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


old Mrs. Channing. Robert was not popular in 
Clydesville. He had lived there during his boyhood, 
and was looked upon throughout the community as a 
regular scapegrace, and ne’er-do-well. The older resi- 
dents shook their heads at the mere mention of his 
name, and prophesied for him no good. When old 
enough to shirk for himself, he gladly shook the dust 
of Clydesville from his feet and went to Philadelphia, 
where some relatives of his resided. There the oppor- 
tunities for developing his evil tendencies were 
broader than in his country home, and ere long, with 
a certain set, he became ^‘one of the boys.” But as 
time passed he began to realize that the Quaker City 
was too tame for him. His relatives, too, were a 
serious obstacle to the enjoyment of his inclinations, 
and wishing to sow his “ wild oats ” without restraint, 
he suddenly left for the more congenial haunts of the 
great metropolis. 

His mother, a good and pious woman, and one of 
the pillars of the Methodist Church in Clydesville, 
doted on her only son ; nothing was too good for her 
‘‘Robbie.” She supplied him liberally with money, 
little suspecting the “ real necessities ” for his rather 
extravagant demands. 

He was a handsome fellow — bad boys too often are ; 
he dressed well ; and, as his manner was pleasing, 
quite soon he found no difficulty in forming a circle of 
congenial acquaintances with whom he became very 
popular. Within a few months he was a familiar 
figure on Broadway where every afternoon from two 
until four (matinee days excepted) he could be seen 
promenading between Fourteenth and Thirty-third 
Streets. Later his walks were confined exclusively to 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


21 


the ‘‘ Rialto,” and in the popular resorts of the 

Tenderloin,” he soon became well known. 

At last, as his allowances were becoming less and 
less, and his mother was continually urging him to 
come home before he squandered her entire patrimony, 
he took to gambling, and made his headquarters at a 
well-known hotel in the vicinity of Broadway and 
Twenty-seventh Street, frequented by men about town, 
actors, and well-known sports. For a while fortune 
favored him ; he won large sums of money, spent it 
freely, and among his own set was considered a high 
roller.” 

Occasional reports of his conduct reached his good 
old mother, which caused her hair to grow whiter, and 
her heart more sad! Then came a time when his 
familiar haunts knew him no more ; he had completely 
disappeared, and having no friends sufficiently inter- 
ested to investigate his disappearance he was soon 
forgotten. 

A year passed and he had not been heard from. 
His mother grieved and mourned in silence. But 
finally, when she had almost given up ever hearing 
from him again, she received a long letter dated in 
Chicago, stating that he was married to the sweetest 
girl in the world, and had settled down to a quiet 
life. 

The news gladdened her heart, and she earnestly 
hoped that his wife’s influence would be restraining 
and good. The only thing that troubled the dear old 
soul was that her Robbie ” had met his bride at the 
theatre instead of at church. But being very chari- 
tably disposed, she consoled herself in thinking : 

Maybe Gertrude is a well-meaning young woman 


22 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK 


after all. City folks are different from us, and IVe 
heard that some real good respectable people do go 
to the theatre — even the ministers sometimes ; though 
I do think it must be those that have fallen from 
grace, and missed their calling.’' 

But alas ! After a very short time, Channing was not 
susceptible to Gertrude's influence, be it for good or 
for bad. He took to drinking, and again to the gam- 
ing table. But this time fortune ran in the opposite 
direction ; he lost as easily as he had previously won. 
Ultimately, poverty began to stare them in the face. 
Then came the old, old story. First his watch was 
pawned ; then his wife’s. Then other articles of 
jewelry went the same way, and finally every available 
thing except her clothing, which she resolutely re- 
fused to part with. Matters went on from bad to 
worse, until they had been married two years ; then, 
unable to face such reverses any longer he gave up, 
and came back to his mother’s home in Clydesville, 
bringing his wife with him. Practically he was a 
broken down man, physically and morally. 

Two months later Helena was born. How the 
child became possessed of so strong a constitution, so 
intellectual a mind, and such healthy morals is one of 
the mysteries which science perhaps can explain. 
When she was six months old her grandmother died. 
From that time Channing grew moody and morose. 
Life in that uneventful hamlet was irksome to him ; 
he hated it and longed for new scenes, or rather for 
the old ones, but no longer had the means to venture . 
into the life he craved. And in his discontent he did, 
what selfish, unreasonable, mind-diseased men too often 
do — blamed his wife. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


23 


Finally a quarrel ensued, and in a fit of temper he 
left the cottage and went straight to the only public- 
house the place contained, and, under the influence of 
the poor whiskey which he consumed, his tongue 
became more glib than usual. The regular set of 
loungers were there, and eagerly listened to his sur- 
prising domestic tales, and drew him on ; and in his 
half-idiotic condition, he dragged his wife’s name into 
that foul bar-room, filled with smoke and the fumes of 
whiskey and beer, and with boastful bravado told how 
he had plotted and schemed to win her ; and how 
successfully he had carried out his dastardly plot. 

Until that night Gertrude Channing had had the 
respect and sympathy of the community. Her first’ 
arrival in the place, with several trunks of superior 
wearing apparel, had created quite a sensation. That 
fact, together with her pleasing manner, soon made 
her popular, and by the younger women of the village 
she was soon looked up to as a model in matters of 
personal appearance and dress. 

But that night in the village bar-room, her husband 
— the father of her child — cast reflections which dis- 
graced and ruined her name. But he never knew to 
what extent he had injured her, for in a few weeks" 
time he was taken suddenly ill with pneumonia and 
died. Then Mrs. Channing began to realize the 
hostile state of the minds in Clydesville toward her. 
She was shunned, and ostracized, as was Hawthorne’s 
Hester Prynne, while Helena was looked upon as was 
Hester’s little Pearl, the only distinction in Gertrude’s 
favor being due to the age in which she lived. It was 
very galling to submit to such treatment and raise her 
child among such surroundings ; but she was power- 


24 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


less to go away. Fate had brought her there — she 
seemed destined to remain. She owned the cottage, 
a good garden, and had a meagre income left to her 
by old Mrs. Channing which she drew quarterly from 
the bank in Saxtontown, a thriving railroad terminus 
some four miles distant. 

I cannot get away,” Gertrude sighed. ** I cannot 
turn the house and lot into money. No one buys or 
sells around here. And where would I go ? O 
God ! where would I — where could I go ? Here I 
can live on very little ; the garden will supply all our 
vegetables, the interest on our money will buy other 
necessaries, and as for clothes, I have enough to make 
over for Helena and myself for years to come. But 
if I returned to the city, rent and living would soon 
reduce us to paupers.” 

Her only real friend in Clydesville was Mrs. Marvin 
— a woman who, although she did not live in a ‘‘ glass 
house,” did not believe in casting stones.” Others 
in the village, more conspicuous for their piety, were 
far less charitable, and feeling thankful they were not 
as some other people, took pains to show their good- 
ness by shunning all semblance of evil. Years passed, 
and the neighbors still held themselves aloof, as though 
they feared that frail lone woman — whose life in 
Clydesville had ever been most exemplary — would 
corrupt their morals. Some people’s morals are easily 
corrupted. 

But when Mrs. Channing lay there dead, the neigh- 
bors flocked in ; the white wan figure could not con- 
taminate them now. She was buried in the church- 
yard beside her faithless husband ; then Mrs. Marvin 
discovered to her grief and dismay that her promises 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


25 


to the dead woman concerning Helena were of little 
avail. On mentioning to Mr. Marvin the arrangement 
made, he became very indignant, and positively for- 
bade the child's coming to his house to live. Billy was 
in the room studying his lessons, but suddenly his book 
lay upside down on the table, and he became all atten- 
tion. 

‘‘ Henry," said Mrs. Marvin earnestly, I promised 
poor Mrs. Channing only a few hours before she died, 

that Helena should come here to live, and " 

I don't care what you promised," Mr. Marvin 
broke in. It was done without consulting me. I 
am lord and master here, and she can't come. I never 
liked Robert Channing, and I think from all accounts 
his wife wasn't much better, and I won't have any of 
the breed here. That settles it !" 

Mrs. Marvin was distressed beyond measure. She 
looked at him in silence, too disappointed to reply. 
But Billy rose and confronted his father. His fine 
face was flushed, his lips parted, and an angry gleam 
was in his eyes. 

‘‘ Father," he exclaimed, ‘‘everybody says that we 
are the richest people in Clydesville, and I know we 
must be because we live in the biggest house, and we 
have lots more room than we need. So why can't 
Helena come? She's no other place to go, and just 
because you didn't like her father you surely 
wouldn't " 

“ William Olney ! not another word from you to- 
night !" returned his father sternly. “ Go to bed this 
instant, and if you fail in your lessons to-morrow, I 
shall punish you soundly." 

When alone, Mrs. Marvin made one more appeal to 


26 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


him, but it passed unheeded ; and treating his wife 
with the characteristic tyranny of husbands who are 
indifferent to their wives’ opinions, he rose and left 
the room. At the door he turned back. 

There’s just one thing I’ll do,” he said, and no 
more ; and that is this : I’ll engage an auctioneer, and 
see that the child is not cheated — that’s my part. 
Yours is to look around and find her a home, for she 
shall not come here.” 


CHAPTER III. 

In the morning Mrs. Marvin set aoout the tasK 
assigned her, which proved to be a rather difficult one. 
Nobody wanted Helena. Some had too many chil- 
dren of their own ; others, like Mr. Marvin, were 
prejudiced against the child because of her parentage. 
Finally, she thought of Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Hoggins 
— they had no children, and possibly might take 
her. 

Mrs. Hoggins, although not a cultivated woman, 
was, as a rule, good-natured, and Mrs. Marvin thought 
with her the child would be kindly treated until a 
more desirable home could be found. So to Mrs. 
Hoggins she went. 

Well, Mrs. Marvin,” said the latter, when the 
object of the call was made known, I’d be awful 
glad to be obligin’, and so far as I’m concerned I’m 
perfectly willin’ to take the girl; but,” she added 
doubtfully, there’s Andrew, you know, an’ I’ll have 
to consult him, bein’ he’s my husband.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 2/ 

So Andrew was consulted. But Andrew objected. 

‘‘No/’ he said stoutly, “Bob Channin’s brat can’t 
come here, an’ you needn’t a thought it.” 

“ But Andrew,” pleaded his good-hearted wife, 
“they say she’s a right handy little girl, an’ she could 
help me wash the dishes, an’ run erran’s, an’ ” 

“Do yer own dish washin*, an’ run yer own er- 
ran’s ; its better’n to be gaddin’ about gossipin’ ’th 
yer neighbors !” Then this male specimen of human- 
ity — the old-time husband — turned on his heel and 
started for the door. 

“ But Andrew ” 

“ Don’t be a buttin’ me,” he retorted angrily, “ for 
there ain’t no‘buts’ about it. You’re wonderful in- 
terested in that gal jest because Hen Marvin’s wife 
come to see about it. S’pose you’d like to take ’er 
jest to get into the good graces o’ the Marvins. But 
jest you mark this, old woman : if Hen Marvin’s wife 
hadn’t a had a ax to grind, she’d never a called on ye ; 
she’s too all-fired big feelin’. An’ if she’s so concerned 
about the gal, why don’t she take an’ look after ’er 
’erself, an’ not be a troublin’ other folks as has all 
they can do to look after theirselves ?” 

“ I s’pose you mean to say then, that I can’t take 
her ; is that it ?” asked Mrs. Hoggins, getting red in 
the face. 

“ Yes, ’Tildy, that’s jest it ; you've hit the nail 
squar’ on the head, for that’s my meanin’ to a T.” 

“ Andrew Hoggins,'’ she exclaimed, “ you’re meaner 
than your name, an’ goodness knows that’s mean 
enough !” 

“ It ain’t so mean but what you was glad enough to 


28 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


take it for yerself, once upon a time/' retorted An- 
drew in high glee. 

Well," replied his wife, I didn’t know the owner 
of it then like I do now, or I wouldn’t a took it. No ; 
I overlooked your ugly soundin’ name, thinkin’ there 
was enough redeemin’ qualities in the man to make up. 
But there’s where I got fooled ; but I’ll never get 
fooled the second time. No siree, one experience is 
enough for me.’’ 

Quite a poet, ain’t ye, Tildy?’’ he asked sneer- 
ingly. 

‘‘There’s no knowin’ but what I might a been 
one if I hadn’t a gone an’ got married to you. I wrote 
some beautiful poetry once when I was nothin’ but a 
girl, an’ read it before the hull spellin’ school, an’ 
everybody there clapped their hands an’ cheered, an’ 
they was jest bent an’ determined on havin’ me read 
somethin’ else ; but I hadn’t nothin else wrote, an’ so 
I read it all right over again, an’ they laughed and 
clapped again, which showed it hadn’t worn itself 
out in the first readin’. Why, even the school-mas- 
ter himself, said he was real sorry it was so late, for 
he’d like to hear it once more; an’ he wanted to take 
it home with him, for he’d been kind o’ nervous for 
a spell, an’ hadn’t slept good, an’ he thought if he 
was to read it all through (there was twenty verses of 
it) jest before he went to bed, that he’d go off to sleep 
as peaceful as a lamb, they was so soothin’ like. So I 
give him the verses, thinkin’ it was kind o’ policy to 
keep him good-natured ; for he used to give the boys 
awful wallopins when he got mad ; an’ the girls too.’’ 

“ A mighty fine school-master you had, I must say,’’ 
returned Mr. Hoggins sarcastically. “ Had to be dosed 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 29 

with poetry before he could sleep, like he was a sick 
baby needin' a dose o' soothin' syrup." 

“ He knew enough to know good poetry when he seen 
it, if nothin' else," replied Mrs. Hoggins with a satis- 
fied air. But goodness knows," she continued, I've 
got somethin' else to do now-a-days besides thinkin' up 
verses to write. My time's spent in washin' an' ironin' 
your clo'es, an' mendin' 'em ; and cookin' yer food. 
I s'pose you think it's fun for me to stand over the hot 
stove all day a cookin' things for you to gobble up so 
fast that you can't hardly taste 'em as you shovels 'em 
into your mouth with your knife, 'cause your fork 
ain't big enough, an' so fast that you don't know 
whether you're eatin' sparrowgrass or puddin' or pie. 
An' then to think," she continued in a grieved tone,*^ that 
when you're too mean an' stingy to hire a girl to help 
me, that now when I’ve got a chance to have a little 
help without hirin’, an' without pay, that you even re- 
fuse me that. Andrew HoggxnSy' she proceeded with 
rising anger, ‘‘I won't stand it! I’m jest goin' to git 
that girl, an' if you don't like it, you can lump it !" 

You are, are ye ? Well I swow ! Ye say it well ! 
Why, 'Tildy, ye said that as easy as if it was gospel 
truth — ha ha ha! " And Mr. Andrew Hoggins leaned 
back against the door laughing boisterously, and in a 
most exasperating manner. 

It is gospel truth," returned Mrs. Hoggins firmly, 
“ for I’m goin' to have 'er, an' you can't help your- 
self ! " 

Andrew's jovial mood suddenly changed ; with an 
angry scowl and a sullen voice he exclaimed : ‘‘ Now 

look a here, old woman ; you're goin’ it at too rapid a 
gait ; you're a gettin outside o’ yer traces, an' that 


30 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 

won’t do ! IVe got somethin’ to say about this 
matter an’ my say is jest this : ye can’t have ’er. 
D’ye hear?” 

‘a can ! ” 

“ You can’t ! ” 

I shall ! ” 

‘‘You shan’t ! ” 

“I will!” 

“ You won’t ! ” 

“ I will ! I will I I will ! ” 

“You will, hey, you will? when I say you won’t? 
An’ you only a woman, an’ me a man, an’ I yer hus- 
band ? I’ll be hornswoggled first I ” 

“Andrew Hoggins, you ought to be ashamed o* 
yerself, to use such vulgar swearin’,” exclaimed his 
wife wrathfully. “ You jest hadn’t better go too far. 
It’s you that wants to keep inside o’ the traces, an’ 
not me. I ain’t no hand at twittin’, ner flingin’ up ; 
but you want to remember that this house an’ lot 
b’longs to me, an’ did long before I give up my respect- 
able name o’ Sooter, for your disrespectable one o’ 
Hoggins. Yes,” she added in a scornful tone, “when 
you an’ me got married, you didn’t own nothin’ but 
the shirt on yer back, an’ that was the only b’iled one 
ye had, the rest was all blue an’ brown checked.” 

“ What about all my other clo’es ? — my coat an’ 
vest an’ pants ? Didn’t I have none o’ them, an’ 
wasn’t they o’ no account ? ” 

“ Not much, I guess, considerin’ you’d had ’em two 
years or more.” 

“ How do you know how long I’d had ’em ? ” 

She looked at him a moment in a way that caused 
him to shrink, as if he anticipated an unpleasant dis- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD TPHNK ? 3 1 

closure, then replied : Do you want me to tell 

what you told me the night we went to Dave Wilkinses 
corn huskin' out in their new barn? How you says to 
me as we was drivin' through the woods on t'other 
side o' the creek, says you : ‘ Matildy,' (you hadn’t 
got to callin' me 'Tildy,' in them days) but as I was a 
sayin', says you to me: ‘Matildy, I reckon I’ll be 
'bout the sprucest dressed feller amongst the crowd to-, 
night, for I jest went over to Saxtontown and bought 
this suit ready-made only yesterday ; an' this is the 
first time I've wore it.' An' I remember more'n that 
you said, an' I wish now I hadn’t a listened to it. 
After that you hung them clo'es up, an' there they 
hung till you took 'em down to git married in two 
years an' three months afterwards. An' that's how I 
know how long you’d had 'em.” 

“ Mighty fine memory that one o' your'n ; ain't it, 
AT^tildy?” 

“ Well, I've got pretty good reasons to remember 
that corn huskin' bee, an' so have you, Andrew 
Hoggins, an' for more reasons than the mere chris- 
tenin' o' them bran new pants o' your'n.” 

Andrew began to get red in the face, and looked 
uneasily toward the door, but his wife mercilessly con- 
tinued : 

“ I guess you remember well enough that when the 
huskin’ was over we all went into the house to eat 
supper, an’ you, thinkin' to play a smart game on the 
crowd, went into the pantry an' hid, where Becky, 
Wilkins had sot a whole row o' punkin pies she'd 
baked that day. One of 'em was left after supper was 
over, an' stood on a bench. Well, you got a glimpse 
o' the bench, but you didn’t get a glimpse o’ the pie, 


32 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


an* you didn’t know it was there till you planked 
yourself squar’ down into it. I’ll never forget, nor 
none o’ the rest of ’em, either, I reckon, how you 
looked when you come a sneakin’ out, all bedaubed 
with punkin pie. No wonder you made yourself 
scarce for awhile. An’ when the dancin’ begun, didn’t 
you look comical with a pair of Abe Wilkinses pants 
on that was about a mile too short for ye, an’ yer red 
socks a hangin’ down over the tops o’ yer shoes,” 
Andrew, having no defense, started for the barn. 
He had heard enough ; and if she had only let him go 
then and there, she would have won the day ; but 
wishing to give him a parting shot, she followed him 
to the door, and called out : 

I want you to remember, Andrew, what I’ve said 
about this house bein’ mine, an’ about that little 

Channin’ girl a cornin’ here, an’ ” 

‘‘The house ain’t your’n !” he returned roughly. 
“ What’s your’n is mine, an’ what’s mine’s me own. 
When a woman gits married to a man she ain’t got 
nothin’ more to say — he’s boss !” 

“ It’s only a mean, cowardly man that would talk 
like that, an’ act as if his wife was nothin’ but a chat- 
tel,” returned Mrs. Hoggins, in a wavering voice. 

“ It ain’t a question o’ chattel,” said Andrew angrily. 
“ It’s a question o’ that gal a cornin’ here ; an’ now, 
’Tildy, let me tell you once for all, if you want to 
bring ’er here, why, jest bring ’er right along, an’ good 
luck to ye both. I’ve had my say, an’ I’ll say no 
more , but remember this : the day she comes, I go ; 
an’ I’ll go for good, too.” 

Mrs. Hoggins, like thousands of women have done 
before, became an easy victim to that vain and cow- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


33 


ardly threat ; she meekly succumbed, and permitted 
him to have his way. Not that he cared one iota 
whether Helena Channing came there or not, but be- 
ing a selfish, obstinate creature he opposed his wife’s 
wishes in the matter for the mere purpose of showing 
that he was the one to be suited, not she. 

Andrew Hoggins is not the only man who has made 
that threat to accomplish his purpose ; and many a 
weak-minded woman, both married and single, fearing 
to lose him forever, has given in, and realized her 
mistake when too late. A woman possessed of suffi- 
cient strength of character to say : Very well, sir; if 
those are your principles, the sooner you go the bet- 
ter,” would perhaps save herself many a regret in 
future. 

When informed of Mrs. Hoggins’ decision, Mrs. 
Marvin was in despair. But at last, on the day before 
the auction, Mrs. Timothy Hopdyke called in Helena’s 
behalf. Mrs. Timothy (as she was commonly called) 
lived on a large farm some two miles distant, and was 
noted for being a thrifty ” woman. 

“ I’ve come,” she said to Mrs. Marvin, to see about 
takin’ Bob Channin’s girl. To be sure I don’t need 
’er, fur I’ve got one o’ me own, an’ laws knows one’s 
’nough. But we’re a’goin’ to have a big crop o’ straw- 
berries, and ras’berries, an’ I was athinkin’ that most 
likely she an’ my Marthy could do the pickin’ of ’em, 
an’ save hirin’ help ; and when the berry season’s 
over. I’ll find ’nough else fur ’er to do to pay ’er 
board.” 

Mrs. Marvin shrank from permitting the refined, 
sensitive child to be brought into daily contact with a 
woman of Mrs. Timothy Hopdyke’s calibre; but it 


34 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

seemed the only thing she could do. So it was ar- 
ranged that Helena should go. 

It’s only for a short time,” Mrs. Marvin consoled 
herself with thinking. “ She shall not stay there 
long. I will find some other place soon if I cannot 
persuade Henry to relent and let her come here.” 

The auction was appointed for two o’clock in the 
afternoon, but long before twelve, when the day ar- 
rived, several of the women of the village were at the 
cottage, curious and eager to pry about and see all 
that was to be seen. 

This won’t bring nothin’ at the auction worth 
speakin’ about,” said Mrs. Halpin, taking an engrav- 
ing in an oak frame from the wall, so I guess I’ll 
take it home as a sort o’ keepsake, an hang it in the 
front room.” 

And this brass tea-kettle isn’t of much account, 
either,” said Mrs. Spencer ; so I might as well take it 
too.” 

Three other worthies were rumaging upstairs when 
they spied the black chest. Among other things they 
dragged forth an opera cloak and fan, a pair of pale 
blue satin slippers, a pair of twenty-two button white 
kid gloves, and several pairs of pink silk stockings. 

‘^Well, did you ever !” exclaimed the finder, holding 
up the stockings in amazement. Jest look at them 
now — silk stockin’s, as sure as I live, and pink ones at 
that !” 

It proves what kind of a woman she was,” said 
Mrs. Perkins. ‘‘ An’ to think of ’er a cornin’ here, an’ 
holdin’ up ’er head as high, an’ higher even, than any- 
body else, an’ all the respectable young women a im- 
itatin’ her style o’ dress. Well, thank goodness, they 


WHAT WOUI,D THE WORLD THINK? 35 

didn’t get so far as to wear pink silk stockin’s !” And 
Mrs. Perkins’ manner expressed profound relief that 
the young ladies of Clydesville had not become so 
demoralized. 

In the midst of their discoveries, a little head ap- 
peared above the stairs, and a very resolute little face 
looked upon them ; then a shrill voice exclaimed : 

‘‘Those things were my mamma’s, and they’re to be 
kept for me ! They’re not to be sold and you mustn’t 
touch them.” 

“ More’s the shame to your mamma,” was the un- 
feeling answer. “ I guess we won’t hurt the trash. 
We’re respectable women, we are ; and we’re satisfied 
to wear plain home-knit stockin’s, and to carry palm 
leaf fans.” 

Before the child could reply, Mrs. Marvin appeared 
on the scene. She had overheard the last remarks, 
and her indignation was thoroughly aroused. 

“ Ladies,” she exclaimed sternly, “ I am amazed 
beyond expression, that you should speak in so cruel 
and heartless a manner in the presence of this poor 
child. Furthermore, there is no occasion for you to 
be up here. All things to be sold are down-stairs, 
where you are at liberty to examine them ; but every- 
thing up here is for Helena when she is older.” 

“ I s’pose you think we’re here to snoop and are snoop- 
in’,” said Mrs. Perkins, the chief offender. “ But I 
don’t know, Mrs. Marvin, but what we’ve got as good 
a right up here as you have, and I guess we’re as good 
as you be, too, if we don’t make as many preten- 
sions.” 

“ It’s not a question of goodness,” returned Mrs. 
Marvin. “ It’s a question of right, and — of decency.” 


36 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


Of decency, is it ?” repeated Mrs, Gosper. Well, 
if it comes to that, I guess we’re as decent as her that 
had all these fine fixin’s. But if you’re so much more 
decent than us, why are you up here a snoopin’, too ?” 

I am here at Mrs. Channing’s request to look after 
her child’s interests.” 

“ O yes, everybody knows that you and her was as 
thick as two peas in a pod,” retorted Mrs. Perkins, sneer- 
ingly ; and they say ^ birds of a feather flock to- 
gether.’ ” 

Having given what she considered a home thrust, 
she flounced down-stairs followed by her worthy com- 
panions. 

When the auction was over, Mrs. Marvin took Hel- 
ena horne with her for the night. Then came the 
painful task of informing her that on the morrow she 
was to go and live with Mrs. Timothy Hopdyke. 

Helena’s grief was intense. 

Am I not to stay and live with you she sobbed. 

Must I leave you and leave Billy ? Oh, Mrs. Mar- 
vin ! mamma said for sure that I was to live with you.” 

‘‘I am very sorry, my child, that you cannot,” re- 
plied Mrs. Marvin, gently. It grieves me to have 
you go, and I knew you would be grieved, too ; that is 
why I have waited until the last minute, as it were, 
before telling you.” 

But why must I go ? Why can’t I stay here 

Because, for the present,” was the hesitating reply, 
‘‘ Mr. Marvin thinks best that you should go to Mr. 
Hopdyke’s.” 

The child had known intuitively for a long time that 
she was not a favorite with Mr. Marvin, and quickly 
comprehending the situation her pride arose, and 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


37 


quickly resolving not to stay where she was not wanted, 
finally dried her tears. Towards dusk she stole out to 
take a farewell of her home. From there she went to 
the churchyard, where her grief burst forth afresh. 

“O mamma!’' she cried, I’m so lonesome with- 
out you ; and nobody wants me. O how I wish I 
could die too, and go where you are — I know I’d be 
wanted there,” 

Throwing herself flat on the ground beside her 
mother’s grave she wept violently, feeling very keenly 
her forlorn condition. 

Dear, dear mamma,” she moaned, how I hate to 
go away and leave you here alone in the cold ground. 
O mamma, please ask the Lord to let me come too. 
Tell him I’m not wanted here, and tell him how lone- 
some I am — please do, mamma.” 

Just then she heard a step near by, and rising quickly, 
beheld Billy Marvin. He had missed her, and suspect- 
ing where she was, haa followed, and witnessed her 
pitiful grief. 

Helena, please do not feel so,” he said ; and do 
not think nobody wants you, for there does. Mother 
wants you, and I want you, but father, he’s — he’s a — 
well, sometimes he gets cranky. I guess most men do, 
though I don’t mean to when I’m a man.” 

‘‘ Billy, you don’t know how dreadfully I feel,” re- 
turned the child, sorrowfully. I can’t bear to think 
of leaving you and your mother, and our house, and 
mamma’s grave, and going away over to Mr. Hop- 
dyke’s. I don’t know them at all, and they live so far 
away that I don’t know when I can ever come to see 
you again.” 

I guess I feel as sorry about it as you do,” re^ 


38 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


turned the boy. But, Helena, try, as mother says, 
to be philosophical. Remember two miles isn't so 
very far after all ; and I’ll go to see you often, and so 
will mother — she said so.” 

Helena shook her head despondingly. To her the 
matter appeared very dark, indeed. 

I only wish I was your sister,” she said in a pa- 
thetic voice. ‘^Then your father would have to let me 
come, and we could be together always. Couldn’t 
we ?” 

A thought occurred to the boy, causing a light to 
break over his face. ^^You can’t be my sister,” he 
said, and I can’t be your brother, but I’ll tell you 
what you can be one of these days — you can be my 
wife. Can’t you, Helena? And then we can always be 
together.” 

I suppose I can,” was the prompt reply ; for I’d 
rather be your wife, Billy, than anybody’s. But,” she 
continued, mournfully, we’re only children — we can’t 
be a man and wife.” 

‘‘ We won’t be children always,” he returned, stoutly. 
‘‘We’ll soon be grown up. Why, I’ve gained five 
pounds this month, already.” 

“ But we won’t be old enough for ever and ever so 
many years yet.” 

“ The years’ll soon pass,” he replied sagely. 

“ But before they do, you’ll forget all about me,” 
she answered with a little sigh. “There’s lots of 
other girls besides me, and you’ll go and get married 
to some of them.” 

“No I won’t,” he returned with strong emphasis. 
“ I don’t want to marry any other girl but you, and 
never will ; and if you think I’ll forget all about it we 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


39 


won’t wait until we are grown up — we’ll get married 
now. Then we can’t either of us forget, for we’ll be 
bound to each other ; and when we get big, we’ll have 
to live together — the same as other married folks 
do.” 

‘‘ There isn’t any minister — he’s gone away for a 
month,” said Helena regretfully. 

That don’t make any difference,” replied the boy, 
with growing eagerness. I heard father read in a 
newspaper the other day that in the State of New 
York if a man and woman agree to be married, and he 
calls her his wife, and she don’t object, that she is his 
wife. Besides that, when we are grown up, we can 
have a minister marry us over again, so to make sure 
it’s all right. So, Helena, we’ll just have the cere- 
mony now. 

Helena rather demurred. Her ideas were somewhat 
confused, and such a marriage was to her a thing un- 
heard of. But like many others of her sex, she was at 
last persuaded. 

“ I suppose you know best, Billy,” she admitted in a 
doubtful tone. You’re a lot older than I am, and if 
you say it’s right, why — I believe you.” 

‘‘ Do you remember,” he asked suddenly, when 
Anna Willis was married in church to John Bolton, 
what she had to say, and what he had to say ?” 

‘‘Yes.” 

“Well then, we can say the same as they did, and 
then we’ll be married enough to last until we’re grown 
up anyway.” 

They sat on the ground discussing their future until 
the moon appeared. “ It’s getting late,” said Billy, 
rising. “ Father’ll soon be looking for us if we don’t 


40 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


hurry home, and as you’re going away early in the 
morning, we hadn’t better put it off any longer.” 

Helena rose — a serious expression on her fair young 
face. Lovingly they clasped each other’s hands, and 
standing there in the weird moonlight beside her 
mother’s grave, those children took their vows of 
everlasting faithfulness to each other. The scene was 
an impressive one ; to them it was no child’s play. 
They appeared to realize the importance of the step 
they were taking ; and never were marriage vows — 
whether registered on earth or in heaven — more 
sincere, more sacred, than were theirs to them. 

Helena,” said Billy earnestly, wilt thou take 
me, William Olney, for your lawfully wedded husband, 
prorriising to love me always ?” 

I will,” promptly responded Helena. 

*‘Now you must ask me the same,” said Billy, act- 
ing as prompter. 

‘‘ William Olney, wilt thou take me, Helena, for 
your lawfully wedded wife, promising to love and 
cherish me always ?” 

I will,” was Billy’s emphatic reply. 

Then bowing their heads, they repeated together : 

And now may God bless this union. Amen.” 

Slipping a little gold ring from his finger the youth- 
ful bridegroom placed it on the finger of his bride. 

Aunt Elizabeth gave this to me when I was a mite 
of a boy,” he explained, and it’s got my name on it. 
It’s most too small for me now, but you can wear it 
for a long time yet ; and when it gets too small for 
you, then lay it away, and every time you look at it 
you must remember that you are my wife.” Then he 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 41 

gave her a good hearty kiss, saying : That’s the way 
John Bolton did to Anna Willis.” 

During their homeward walk Billy very earnestly 
remarked : Now Helena, mother don’t intend you to 
stop with Mrs. Hopdyke long, and there’s no knowing 
where you’ll go to when you leave there. But no 
matter where you go, you must not forget to come 
back to me, else let me know where you are, so I can 
go to you ; and remember when you are twenty-one 
years old you’ll be your own boss and can do as you 
please. So don’t forget.” 

** Billy, I’ll never forget you,” was the solemn reply ; 
and I’ll never, never forget that I am your wife. And 
when I am twenty-one years old, no matter where I 
am, ril come back to you.” 

And thus they parted. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Mr. Timothy Hopdyke was a good-natured farmer, 
but Mrs. Timothy was an avaricious hard-working 
woman, with a sharp eye and a still sharper tongue. 
When she decided to take Helena, Timothy did not 
interfere. He was often known to say : I never 
meddle with ’Mandy. I’ve got all I ken do to run the 
farm, and ’Mandy, she’s quite capable of runnin’ the 
house — an’ runnin’ it to suit herself.” He might very 
truthfully have added that she was quite capable of 
running him out of it sometimes in order to escape 


42 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


her sharp tongue. But he didn’t — he kept that to 
himself. 

Helena found a decided and unpleasant change 
between her mother’s pretty cottage, with its numer- 
ous traces of elegance, and that bustling farm house 
so devoid of them all, and a marked difference between 
her mother’s refined ladylike voice, and Mrs. Timothy 
Hopdyke’s loud harsh one ; and, child though she was, 
Mrs. Hopdyke’s voice and uncultivated language 
grated unpleasantly on her ear. She soon learned 
that she had not been taken into the Hopdyke house- 
hold from any philanthropic motive on the part of 
Mrs. Timothy, but from a desire for cheap help.” 

When Mrs. Hopdyke heard that Mrs. Marvin was 
endeavoring to secure a home for Mrs. Channing’s 
child, she lost no time in seeing about it. 

‘^Timothy,” said she, I’ve jest heerd say that Bob 
Channin’s gal can be had fur the mere askin’, an’ I’m 
goin’ right over to the Marvinses to get ’er. It’s as 
great a streak o’ luck as I ever heerd tell. Here I’ve 
been a wishin’, an’ a prayin’, an’ most a losin’ sleep, as 
to how we’d ever git all them strawberries and ras’- 
berries picked, ’thout spendin’ a lot o’ money fur 
help. An’ now, jest in the nick o’ time my prayers is 
all answered. Don’t tell me no different,” she con- 
tinued, as Timothy was about to enter a protest, fur 
I know what I’m a sayin’ ; an’ if you was a good 
church member like I be, most likely you’d have bet- 
ter luck ’n you do, an’ mebbe your horses wouldn’t ’ve 
run away yesterday, an’ broke the plow p’int. I do 
wish, Timothy, you was a professor of religion.” 

“ Wall, I don’t want to profess to be what I ain’t,” 
returned Timothy, ^‘Frofessin’ ^ thing, an’ really 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


43 


bein*’ it, is two different matters. Some folks is great 
at professin’, an’ that’s about all ken be said for ’em.’* 
Timothy Hopdyke, you orter be ashamed o’ your- 
self to talk like that. It’s castin’ reflections on re- 
ligion.” 

It ain’t nuthin’ o’ the kind retorted Timothy ; 
“ it’s only casting reflections on them that professes 
religion an’ ain’t got it. 

But the Bible says : ‘ Judge not that ’ ” 

Yes, ’Mandy, I know it does ; an’ in another place 
it says: ‘Ye shall know ’em by their works.’ Only I 
guess I’ve got the verse back end to.” 

“ It’s a wonder that you ken get it any way at all-, 
such an unb’liever as you be ! There’s one thing cer- 
tain, an’ that is, you don’t do no works to be judged 
by. You jest go to meetin’ Sundays, ’cause every- 
body else goes, an’ ” 

“ Whose judgin’ now, ’Mandy ?” 

“ Well, it’s true, Timothy, an’ you know it ; an* you 
only drive me over to Wednesday night prayer meetin*s 
jest because it’s too far fur me to walk. But what 
good does the goin’ do you ? Durin’ the hull meetin’ 
you jest sit there as dumb as a oyster. Now what 
kind of example is that fur the young converts. I’d 
like to know? Jest look at me, fur instance, I bears 
my cross every time ’thout shirkin’ it. I prays, an' I 
testifies, an’ sometimes leads the singin’, ’specially 
when no one else makes a start ; an’ I lets my light 
shine, an’ don’t hide it under no bushel like you do, 
only you ain’t got no light at all to hide ’cause your in 
sich darkness. That’s what I call doin’ good works — 
works that’ll stand being judged by when the last 
great day comes.” 


44 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


‘‘ Well, 'Mandy, I ain’t so concerned ’bout the 
cornin’ o’ the ‘ last day ’ as you be. Seems to me 
there’s other days to think of as well’s the last one. 
As fur me bein’ dumb, mebbe that’s so ; but I guess 
there’s as good ways, if not better, of showin’ one’s 
‘ works ’ than to git up in meetin’ an’ spout away fur 
half an hour, an’ then come home an’ fret and jaw, an’ 
jaw an’ fume, till somebody wishes they’d never been 
born, or else that they could turn up their toes over in 
the graveyard an’ have peace, at least till the last day 
does come.” 

I s’pose, Timothy Hopdyke, you mean all that fur 
me — me,yerhard-workin’ wife, that drudges like a slave 
from mornin’ till night, year in an’ year out. Well, 
hereafter, please talk to me in plain speech, an’ not in 
riddles, which I never was good at guessin’.” 

‘‘You appear to guess that one pretty easy, ’Mandy. 
Seems to me the coat fits — you wear it so slick.” 

“ Well,” returned Mrs. Timothy, with a sigh, “ I 
s’pose that’s all I ken expect from a unb’liever. But 
I’ll pray fur you, Timothy, an’ pray ’thout ceasin’, an’ 
b’lievin’ as I do in the answerin’ o’ prayer, there’s 
hopes that you’ll yet be brought to see the error o’ 
your ways.” 

Mrs. Hopdyke rose from the table. “ Now, 
Timothy,” she said, “ I want you to hurry up an’ hitch 
old Sorrel to the covered buggy, fur I’m a’ goin’ right 
over to git that gal.” 

“ What’ll you do with her after the berries is all 
picked ? ” Timothy asked meekly. 

“ I s’pose you’d like to have me buy her a organ, or 
a pianner, with the money from the berry crop,” said 
Mrs. Timothy, scornfully. “You jest trust me,” she 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


45 


added, to find ’nough fur ’er to do. I want to send 
Marthy to school this cornin’ fall, an’ the little Channin’ 
gal ken take ’er place, an’ help me so that Marthy ken 
be spared.” 

What about the Channin’ gal goin’ to school too ? ” 
asked Timothy. Don’t she need some learnin’ as 
well as Marthy ? ” 

“ Timothy Hopdyke, you’re the aggravatinest man 
I ever seen,” retorted Mrs. Timothy angrily. The 
gal ought to be thankful fur a good home, a plenty to 
eat, an’ a place to sleep.” 

Yes,” returned Timothy dryly, ‘‘ an’ fur the chance 
o’ drudgin’ about all day to earn it. Well, ’Mandy, 
mebbe that’s part an’ parcel o’ your religion, but it 
ain’t o’ mine. The church folks pity you for bein’ 
uneq’ally yoked to a sinner like me ; but between 
you an’ me an’ the gate-post, I guess my religion is as 
good as yours is. Leastwise I ain’t no hypocrite no 
how.” 

“Well, I ain’t no time to argue the question o’ your 
goodness, or your self-righteousness either,” replied 
his wife, loftily, “fur while I’m here a arguin’, some- 
body else might go an’ git the gal, an’ then I’d lose ’er, 
an’ have to git other help to pick them berries an’ pay 
fur it.” 

“ I guess, ’Mandy,” said Mr. Hopdyke meaningly, 
“that if you’re to git the little gal in answer to prayer, 
there’s no danger o’ your losin’ ’er — it’s probably all 
fixed, unless ” he added in an aside, “ somebody else 
has been prayin’ fur ’er too. An’ then I ’spose the 
one gets ’er that’s prayed the loudest.” 

Mrs. Hopdyke gave him a wrathful glance, and 
hurried away to change her dress of blue calico for a 


46 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

clean checked gingham. Two hours later she returned 
home rejoicing in the thought of having secured such 

handy help,” as Helena was reported to be. 

“ An’ so cheap, too ! ” she exclaimed to Timothy. 

Nuthin’ to pay out, an’ no expense only what she 
eats ; an’ laws, a chit like her can’t eat much ; an’ 
what she does ’ll be mostly of our own raisin’, an’ that 
don’t count — it ain’t like spendin’ hard earnt money.” 

Mrs. Hopdyke’s daughter. Miss Martha, was a 
plump girl of eleven, who hated work, particularly 
dish-washing, and from the day of Helena’s advent into 
the family she always managed to be out of sight and 
hearing at that time, and eventually the dish-washing 
all fell upon Helena. All day long, day after day, it 
was Heleny, you do this,” and ‘‘ Heleny, you do 
that,” until the child found life very irksome indeed. 

One day, during their twelve o’clock dinner, when 
Helena had been there some four months, Mr. Hop- 
dyke announced his intention of going to Saxtontown 
that afternoon to see about getting his mowing ma- 
chine mended. 

‘‘ Well, Timothy,” said Mrs. Hopdyke, I’ll go 
along too. I need a new calico dress an’ some new 
aprons, an’ so does Marthy. Besides that, I want to 
take that jar o’ butter over to the Widow Lacy, an’ see 
if she don’t want some more eggs. So I’ll hurry up 
an’ be ready, b’time you’ve got the horses hitched up.” 

Me too, ma,” said Martha. ** I ain’t been to town 
in an awful long spell, an’ I want to go.” 

^‘All right then. You jest hurry up an’ get fixed. 
Put on yer blue lawn dress, an’ don’t be long with yer 
primpin’.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


47 


Helena looked up longingly. Please may I go 
too ?” she asked. 

We can’t all go to oncet,” responded Mrs. Hop- 
dyke. The seat won’t hold but three, an’ Marthy 
she spoke first.” 

Can’t I ride in the back, on the bottom of the 
wagon ?” Helena pleaded. 

** No, ye can’t do nuthin’ of the sort,” was the sharp 
reply. The back ’ll be all took up with the mowin’ 
machine, an’ you’d look fine h’isted up on top o’ that.” 

Helena turned away with quivering lips. 

‘‘ Come now, none o’ yer snivelin’,” said Mrs. Hop- 
dyke. You can’t always ’spcct to go ; but if yer a 
good girl yer turn ’ll come sometime. Now you be 
spry an’ wash up them dishes, an’ set the table fur 
supper, an’ peel some pertatoes, an’ put ’em in the 
pot, an’ cover ’em over with water so’s they won’t turn 
black. Then peel that dish of apples, an’ put ’em on 
to stew, an’ put a cup full o’ brown sugar in ’em. An’ 
when they’re done, shell them peas that’s out in a pan 
in the wood-shed.” 

Mrs. Hopdyke left the room, but soon returned 
arrayed in a black lawn dress and black straw bonnet, 
conspicuous for its bows of bright green ribbon and 
bunches of red roses. 

Heleny,” she said, when you git the other things 
all done that I’ve named, you jest take the broom an’ 
clean up a bit around the stove an’ brush off the 
porch. An’ — O yes ! Don’t forgit to watch the pigs, 
an’ see that they don’t get into the garden an’ root up 
the cabbages; an’ have an eye to the chickens that 
they don’t scratch amongst the tomato vines.” 

At that moment Mr. Hopdyke came in frorn thq 


48 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


barn. Marthy,” said he, I wish you’d go an’ fetch 
my wallet. It’s up stairs in my Sunday-go-to-meetin’ 
coat.” 

I don’t know where’bouts yer coat is,” said Martha 
in a pert tone. Send Heleny fur it.” 

Go yourself,” replied Helena with spirit. I have 
enough to do now and a good deal more.” 

Mr. Hopdyke gave the child a look of approval ; 
then as was usually the case, went after the wallet 
himself. 

When seated in the wagon Mrs. Hopdyke called 
back in a shrill voice: Say, Heleny, don’t forgit to 
shell them peas ; an’ when you’ve got everything else 
done you just take that knittin’ work I sot up t’ther 
day, an’ go out in the garden an’ sit under the apple 
tree in the shade an’ knit ; an’ mind you don’t drop 
no stitches, ’cause dropped stitches makes loop-holes ; 
an’ while you’re a knittin’ jest keep your eyes on the 
pigs an’ chickens. Then you won’t git into no mis- 
chief.” 

The child looked defiant. How can I keep my 
eyes on the pigs and chickens,” she asked, ^Tf I’m to 
keep them on the stitches and loop-holes ?” 

^‘Y’ain’t to have no loop-holes,” called out Mrs. 
Timothy in a loud harsh voice. Them only comes 
by droppin’ stitches, an’ didn’t I tell you not to drop 
’em ? So don’t give me no more o’ yer sass, miss, or 
I’ll git out an’ cuff yer ears.” 

A flush of anger overspread the child’s face. ‘‘ You 
couldn’t cuff me,” she returned defiantly, ‘‘ for 1 
wouldn’t let you. My mamma never cuffed me, and 
you sha’n’t.” 

^^You brazen little minx! I’d get out an’ cuff ye 


• WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


49 


now, if we wasn’t in sich a hurry. As fur yer ma, I 
guess she done worser things than cuffin’ ye would a 
been.’’ 

She didn’t !” returned Helena. She never did 
anything wrong in her life ; and she’s an angel now, 
and that’s a good deal more than you are.” 

Mr. Timothy Hopdyke suddenly spoke to the horses 
and drove away. There was a humorous twinkle in 
his eyes. 

“ That gal, she’s got the right kind o’ grit, anyway, 
an’ I’m glad on’t,” he mused. '' She’ll need it while she 
lives with ’Mandy. She’s a good child too, an’ bright 
as a new dollar ; but she’s nagged at too much. 
’Mandy, she’s a great one at naggin’. Somehow her 
an’ me can’t agree on them p’ints at all. She seems 
to think bein’ a church member covers a multitude o’ 
sins (it hides ’em anyway) ; so she’ll go to prayer- 
meetin’, an’ spout away fur half an hour, tellin’ about 
the Lord's wonderful goodness to her, an’ then she’ll 
come home an’ make that poor little motherless thing 
cry with ’er sharp tongue. Many times I’ve wished 
she’d let the ^ wonderful goodness ’ she talks of so much 
soften ’er heart a bit, an’ let it last ’er till the next 
prayer-meetin’. But there ain’t no use in my sayin’ 
anythin’, or meddlin’, fur I couldn’t stop ’Mandy’s 
tongue if I tried. But there’s one thing sure : if 
’Mandy ever goes to cuff ’er, or strike ’er, why then. 
I’ll meddle, fur I won’t stand that nohow.” 

Helena watched them until they drove around the 
curve, then bitter tears of grief and anger filled her big 
dark eyes. Did she return to the kitchen and do all 
that had been assigned her? No ; she did not. She 
went instead into the meadow, and throwing herself 


50 


WPIAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


down in the tall grass among the buttercups and 
daisies, gave vent to her childish grief. Not that she 
wished to be disobedient ; she fully intended to do all 
that she had been told to do, but she felt unfitted 
until she had relieved her overburdened heart. Soon 
her sobs ceased, her troubles were forgotten— she was 
sound asleep. Not until the sun was far in the west 
did she awaken, and hastening to the house found the 
kitchen fire out and the tea-kettle cold. The array of 
things undone bewildered her. 

I don’t know where to begin,” she cried in dismay. 

There’s so much to do.” She began however with 
the peas, and had just got them shelled when the low- 
ing of the cows warned her that it was nearly milking 
time and that Mrs. Hopdyke would soon return. 

O the pigs and the chickens !” she suddenly ex- 
claimed in frightened tones. I’d forgotten all about 
them.” She ran to the garden, which happily was 
unharmed. Returning to the house, she heard the 
front gate open and saw a man approaching with a 
satchel in his hand. 

Little girl, is your mother home ?” he asked. 

No, sir. There’s no one home but me, and — I 
wish I wasn’t.” 

He sat down on the door-step, removed his broad- 
brimmed hat, and began to fan himself. Noting the 
child’s tear-stained face he kindly inquired the cause. 

** They’re not good to me,” she said confidentially, 
finding a sympathizer in the stranger. 

Who is not good to you ?” 

None of them, except Mr. Hopdyke. He’s good 
to me only — he don’t have much to say. Mrs. Hop- 
dyke does all the talking, and she’s the worst. She’s 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


51 


not my mother, either — I only live here. They’ve 
gone to town, but I’m kept home to do all the work.” 

To convince him of the truth of her assertion she 
itemized the numerous tasks required of her, while the 
stranger’s eyes expressed both amusement and indig- 
nation. To divert her mind he took from his satchel 
a book of animals, brightly colored, with descriptions 
of their habits and native climes. Not only were the 
illustrations artistic, but the book was handsomely 
bound, and very attractive. When Helena saw the 
big elephant on one side, and the lion on the other, 
her eyes sparkled. 

'' Can you read ?” the man asked. 

O yes, sir. Mamma taught me how to read and 
write and cipher, and lots of things.” 

Your mamma was a very sensible woman,” he re- 
marked. 

Mrs. Hopdyke doesn’t think so,” said Helena. 
‘‘ She says my mamma was bad, because she never 
whipped me, and because she wore silk stockings. 
Do you see any harm in that ?” 

No,” was the smiling reply, ‘‘providing one can 
afford them. Little one,” he said, suddenly changing 
the subject, “ would you like to have this book for 
your own ?” 

“Yes, sir ; very much, if I could, but I can’t for I’ve 
no money.” 

“ Well, if you will give me some bread and butter, 
and a glass of milk, you shall have it.’^ 

Helena ran in, and quickly returned with a plate of 
bread and butter, a whole pitcher of milk cold from 
the cellar, a liberal slice of ginger cake, and a piece of 
apple pie. Quite a treat it was for the weary book 


52 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


agent, and he enjoyed it with keen relish. After a few 
kind words of sympathy he took leave, just as the 
Hopdykes came in sight around the curve. 

Poor Helena. She had forgotten Mrs. Hopdyke’s 
existence, so absorbed was her mind with the beauti- 
ful book. But a sight of her recalled the child from 
fairy-land, and with a look of dismay she glanced 
around the room from the unpared potatoes to the 
unstewed apples, and the unswept hearth. Very soon 
Mrs. Hopdyke’s keen eyes were taking in the state of 
things, and her anger rose accordingly. She was tired 
and out of sorts, having only received fifteen and a 
half cents a pound for her butter, when she had fully 
expected twenty. And eggs only brought ten cents a 
dozen. 

“ I declare,” she said to Timothy during the ride 
home, it don’t pay no longer to feed the hens, when 
eggs is down to that price. Hereafter I’ll just let ’em 
scratch fur a livin’ till eggs goes up again.” 

In that state of mind she encountered Helena, the 
unwashed dinner dishes, and the fireless stove. 

‘‘ Heleny Channin’ !” she exclaimed wrathfully. 
‘‘ You lazy little minx. You ain’t done none o' them 

things I told ye to do. How did ye ever dare ” 

meant to — I — I — I tried,” said Helena piteously, 
‘‘ but somehow I — couldn’t.” 

“You meant to, an’ you tried, an’ somehow you 
couldn’t,” repeated Mrs. Hopdyde with intense scorn. 
“Well, I’ll see about that, but mebbe you can tell me 
who that man was agoin’ out o’ here jest as we got in 
sight ; an’ what was that you was a hidin’ under the 
table cloth when I came in } Bring it to me at oncet.” 

Helena nervously obeyed. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 53 

^‘What's this?” asked Mrs. Timothy, snatching the 
book from Helena’s hand. “ An’ how came you 
by it ?” 

O let me see it !” exclaimed Martha, snatching it 
in turn from her mother. 

Answer my question,” said Mrs. Hopdyke angrily 
to Helena. 

“ The man gave it to me because I gave him some- 
thing to eat.” 

“You did!” returned the woman sneeringly. “You 
gave him something to eat — j'o// ! An’ where did you 
have anything to give ?” 

“I got it out of the cellar,” said Helena innocently 
enough. 

“Well, miss,” said Mrs. Hopdyke, “I’ll have ye 
understand that you ain’t got nothin’ in the cellar to 
give. What’s there’s mine — not your’n, an’ you’ve no 
business a givin’ my vict’als to peddlers, to get books 
with fur yerself. Here Marthy,” she added maliciously, 
“ take this ’ere book an’ keep it — it’s your’n.” 

Helena impulsively sprang forward. “You can’t 
have it !” she cried. “ He gave it to me, and if you 
mind the things I gave him to eat. I’ll go without my 
supper, and that’ll make up.” 

“ None o’ yer impudence, you little ingrate I You’ll 
go without your supper anyhow, fur being so lazy. 
But it’s all I could expect — yer father was a loafer, 
an’ yer mother was worse. Go to yer room now, an’ 
stay there till yer called, or I’ll give ye somethin’ to 
snivel for.” 

Martha bore away the book in triumph, and Helena’s 
cup of bitterness was full. On reaching her little bare 
room she threw herself on the bed and ( ried, and 


54 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 

kicked her little heels high in the air, giving emphatic 
expression to her anger and grief. 

She’s a mean stingy old thing, to mind a little 
bread and milk and cake and pie, when there’s a cellar 
full of milk, and lots of cows, and four loaves of bread, 
and lots of pies and cakes. And she called my 
mamma worse than a loafer, and mamma told me if 
they talked about her not to listen. So I won’t stay 
any longer. I’ll just run away, and she can get some- 
body else to shell the peas, and wash the dishes, and 
sweep up, and pare potatoes, and tend the pigs, and 
watch the chickens and loop-holes, and — and all the 
rest !” 

Then this precocious child of nine raised up, her face 
fixed and resolute. When it became quite dark, and 
Mr. Timothy Hopdyke was out milking the cows, and 
Mrs. Timothy was down cellar skimming milk, and 
Martha engaged in reading Helena’s book, Helena stole 
softly down stairs and went into the garden. From 
under a currant bush she removed a large flat stone ; 
then after digging a few inches into the earth, with- 
drew a package of musty mouldy paper, which guarded 
her only treasure — the little pearl jewel case contain- 
ing the two letters. And with that, the child set out 
alone to face the world. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


55 


CHAPTER V. 

Mr. Marvin and Billy had retired for the night. 
Mrs. Marvin sat looking over the weekly newspaper, 
when there came a low knock on the door. A 
moment later Helena Channing was excitedly venti- 
lating her grievances. 

“ So I’ve come to say good-bye to you, and to Billy,” 
she explained, because I’m going away. I’ve left 
Mrs. Hopdyke's for ever and ever.” 

Mrs. Marvin gently inquired the cause for so sudden 
a move. 

'‘She was mean to me,” said the child; "awful 
mean ! And she talked about mamma, and I promised 
mamma I wouldn’t listen if they talked, and I won’t. 
So I’ve run away.” 

" Where are you going ?” 

"I don’t know; I haven’t thought yet. But I’m 
going somewhere, so I’ve come to let you know.” 

Mrs. Marvin looked at the child with tears of sym- 
pathy in her eyes. Her motherly heart yearned for 
the friendless unfortunate girl, and she longed to 
shield her from sorrow, and harm, but was powerless 
to do so because of a cold-hearted tyrannical husband. 

" Where is Billy ? I must see him before I go,” 
said Helena. 

" Billy is in bed,” was the reply ; " but you can 
see him in the morning. Now my child,” Mrs. Marvin 
continued, " I am very sorry for you, more sorry 
than you know and I will try to find you a better home 


56 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


quite soon. But to-morrow you must go back to Mrs. 
Hopdyke ; Billy and I will drive you there.” 

The child made no reply, but in her inmost heart 
she rebelled, and resolved not to go. 

I don't dare go back now,” she thought. “ Mrs. 
Hopdyke might whip me, and be meaner than ever, 
because I ran away.” 

Come with me now,” said Mrs. Marvin arising, 
‘'and ril put you to bed — you're tired and sleepy.” 

“ I haven’t had any supper yet,” said Helena, piti- 
fully. " Mrs. Hopdyke was mad with me because I 
gave a poor man something to eat and she sent me to 
bed without my supper.” 

A flash of indignation shot from Mrs. Marvin's eyes, 
and while the child was appeasing her hunger, she was 
trying to plan some means for her immediate rescue. 

In the morning when the first rooster crowed to an- 
nounce the early dawn Helena arose, hurriedly dressed, 
and cautiously found her way to Billy’s room to bid 
him good bye. But Billy was soundly sleeping.^ No 
care, no anxiety, disturbed his childish slumbers. For 
a moment she stood there in the grey dawn, un- 
decided. She disliked to go without a word of fare- 
well, yet she dared not wake him lest he speak out 
and betray her presence in the house to Mr. Marvin, 
who slept in the adjoining room. On a small table 
near the bed were some slate pencils, a jack knife and 
a lead pencil. Suddenly she tore off a corner from 
the brown wrapping paper around her treasure box, 
and with the lead pencil wrote a few words of farewell, 
again assuring him of her faithfulness, and promising 
to sometime return. Then carefully climbing on the 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


57 


side of the bed she leaned over and kissed the sleep- 
ing boy’s forehead. 

‘‘ Dear Billy,” she murmured softly, “ I am going to 
leave you. O Billy, I’ve got nobody but you, and 
your mother, and it’s so hard to go.” 

Tears were in her eyes ; a great responsibility rested 
on her young shoulders, and she shrank from the 
ordeal before her. But fearful that Mr. Marvin would 
awake and discover her, she slid down and left the 
room. A few minutes later she was out in the world, 
alone. 

After a farewell look at her old home and at the 
churchyard where her mother lay, she turned her face 
toward Saxtontown, and started off at a brisk pace. 
Within an hour a farmer came along on his way to a 
cheese factory with a load of milk, and offered to give 
her a lift.” She scrambled into the wagon and rode 
with him nearly to the town. On arriving there she 
wandered aimlessly about the streets, not knowing 
what to do, or where to go. As the people began to 
be more numerous in the street she felt bewildered 
and lost. Finally she mustered courage to knock on 
a door. To the woman who opened it she said : 

Will you please let me come here and live with 
you ? I’ll be a good girl and help do the work, and 
run all the errands.” 

Who are you ?” asked the woman, staring at her 
in surprise. 

‘‘ I’m Helena Channing.” 

Where do you live ?” 

I don’t live anywhere now, I did live with Mrs. 
Timothy Hopdyke, but I don’t any longer, for I’ve 
run away.” 


58 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

Poor Helena. Her frankness re-acted unpleasantly, 
and after receiving a severe rebuke for being a bad 
girl, and an order to go straight back home,” she 
found herself once more wandering about. But chil- 
dren’s minds are quick to receive impressions, and at 
the next place she sought admittance she omitted the 
run-away ” part of her story. Nevertheless she was 
not wanted. In vain she went from door to door, 
until at last, tired and hungry, she reached the end of 
the street where the houses were few and far between, 
and there threw herself under a large tree by the way- 
side to rest. The day was passing, night would come, 
and where could she find shelter? 

Nobody w^ants me,” she sobbed. There’s no 
place for me anywhere. Even the Lord don’t want 
me. He took my mamma, and left me alone; and 
now I’ve no place to go.” 

The child lay there crying until she heard footsteps 
approaching. Quickly raising up, a look of joy came 
to her pitiful, tear-stained face, for only a few paces 
away was the man who had given her the book the 
day before. Feeling that she had found a long lost 
friend, she ran eagerly forward to meet him. 

O sir, I’m so glad to see you !” she exclaimed, for 
I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know anybody, and 
— nobody knows me, and they don’t want to either.” 

When the stranger understood the situation his face 
became very grave. The child, anxiously watching 
his expression, said quickly : O sir, please let me go 
home with you ; I’ll be very good, and do everything 
I’m told.” 

It’s impossible for me to do that,” he replied. “ I 
am a poor man, canvassing for books for a mere liveli- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


59 


hood. Besides, I live in Newburg on the Hudson — a 
long way from here. So you had better go back to 
Mrs. Hopdyke.” 

I don’t dare go back now !” said the child. “ She’d 
be so mad at me that I don’t know what she’d do. 
And,” she continued with quivering lips, she’s done 
enough to me now. O sir,” she pleaded, clutching his 
hand, ‘‘only take me, and I’ll do all th‘e work. I’ll 
shell the peas, and mind the pigs, and the chickens, 
and — everything.” 

The man smiled wearily. Pigs and chickens he did 
not have, and fortunate was he if there were peas to 
shell. 

“ I’ll sweep the house,” proceeded the child eagerly, 
“and go to the barn and gather the eggs, and feed the 
hens, and ” 

“Little girl,” he interrupted, “I have no hens to 
feed, no eggs to gather, no barn to go to, and no house 
to sweep. My wife, my daughter Annie and I, live in 
three rooms, and there would be no place for you to 
sleep.” 

“ I’ll sleep on the lounge in the kitchen,” she re- 
plied quickly, “ and live on bread and milk. I 
wouldn’t ask for any pie, or cake, or preserves.” 

“ Bread and milk,” he thought bitterly, remember- 
ing how hard the money was earned that bought the 
loaves of bread and the single quart of milk each day. 

Helena’s hope of life seemed depending on his deci- 
sion, and he soon discovered that despite her years, 
she was a very persistent little specimen of humanity. 
Being a very kind-hearted man his sympathies were 
aroused in her behalf, and at last he decided to take 
her home with him. The Wilsons, his next door 


6o 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


neighbors, had no children of their own, and as they 
were comfortably off, perhaps he might persuade them 
to take her. 

Helena, being both hungry and penniless, her new 
found friend stopped in the first house and arranged 
for her comfort until the next morning. Then he re- 
turned to Newburg, taking her with him. To his dis- 
appointment,* however, the Wilsons were out of town, 
and would not return for two weeks. As a last resort 
he took her to his own home. His wife, Mrs. Ruden, 
was not at all pleased. She was a fretful, hardworking 
woman, who took in sewing to make both ends meet, 
and naturally looked upon Helena as a weight on her 
already overburdened shoulders. 

Helena instinctively felt that she was unwelcome, 
but she was too tired and sleepy to lay awake thinking 
about it the first night there. The Rudens lived up 
two flights of stairs, and to Helena’s intense disap- 
pointment had no garden, nor even a yard. Where 
to secrete her treasure she did not know. It was 
wrapped in brown paper, and resembled an ordinary 
parcel, but Mrs. Ruden’s sharp eyes soon detected 
that Helena guarded it with jealous care. That night 
when the child was soundly sleeping in the narrow cot 
with Annie, Mrs. Ruden searched the room until she 
found the parcel, which had been hidden under the 
bureau on the floor. She removed the wrapper and 
started in surprise on beholding the contents. She 
tried to open the jewel case, but found it was locked. 

I wonder if she stole it ?” Mrs. Ruden questioned. 

Most likely she did, she acted so suspicious and 
secretive about it.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


6l 


Curious as to the contents she vainly searched 
Helena’s pockets for the key, but it was not there. 

Several days passed — Helena was still in her new 
home, Mrs. Ruden having consented to keep her until 
the Wilsons returned. One morning, while the child 
was dressing, Mrs. Ruden discovered the chain and 
key on her neck. On asking what the key belonged 
to, Helena flushed, and hesitatingly replied that it was 
the key to a little box. Mrs. Ruden said nothing 
more, but she was firmly convinced of the child’s 
guilt. 

“ The little thief,” she muttered. Somebody’s 
taken her in the same as we have, and she’s stolen 
from them. Most likely there’s something valuable in 
that box, she keeps it hid so close ; but I’ll find out 
yet.” 

That night when the two girls were sleeping, she 
carefully unclasped the chain from Helena’s neck, and 
removed the key. Then taking the jewel case from 
under the bureau opened it, only to find two letters; 
the top one addressed to Helena, to be opened on her 
fifteenth birthday. Mrs. Ruden knew she had wronged 
the child, and felt a pang of remorse ; but curiosity 
prompted her to read the letters. Opening the one 
addressed to Helena, she read the following : 

Clydesville, N. Y., April 20th, 18 — . 
My Darling Child : — 

When you read this I shall have long been in my 
grave. I have no legacy to leave you, no relatives, no 
friends. But you have my tenderest love, and bless- 
ing, and my prayer is that you may grow to be a good 
pure woman, with sufficient moral courage to stand 


62 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


upright and steadfast through life. My strength is 
failing — I must be brief. I have already written a 
long letter to Mr. Sidney Bryan concerning you. I 
shall leave it with this, in your care. Take it to his 
address in New York City, and personally hand it to 
him. I think — in fact I believe — after reading it, that 
he will arrange for your future. My reason for wait- 
ing so long is, I do not wish to encumber him with the 
responsibility of a child ; but at fifteen you can be a 
companion, rather than an incumbrance. 

Now, as a last request, follojv implicitly these in- 
structions, and do not I implore you read the letter 
addressed to him nor permit any one else to do so. 
My darling, this will come to you like a voice from the 
grave, reminding you of your loving mother, 

Gertrude Channing.” 

Mrs. Ruden read the letter twice through. Evi- 
dently Sidney Bryan ” was the one who had given 
the jewel case to Gertrude,” and Gertrude was 
Helena's mother. Mrs. Ruden took up the other 
letter, but she did so hesitatingly. Several times she 
turned it over in her hands, closely examining the 
seal. It seemed to fascinate her and the longer she 
held it, the more eager she became to know its con- 
tents. 

‘‘ It could be opened and sealed again without de- 
tection,” she mused. I could warm the wax and 
stamp it with a key, or a thimble, and Mr. Bryan 
would never know the difference. And Helena will 
not see it for years to come, and by that time she will 
have forgotten the appearance of the seal, even 
though she has ever seen it. Besides, the child is in 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 63 

my care. For the present I am her guardian, and am 
justified in knowing everything about her.’' 

Mrs. Ruden tried hard to ease her conscience, and 
inveigle herself into the belief that her line of reason- 
ing was right. But she could not, and the letter still 
lay in her lap unopened. Some powerful influence 
seemed to stand between her and the deed, forbidding 
her to commit it. 

This is mere fancy,” she muttered. There is no 
reason why I should not know its contents — I will 
open it ! ” She rose to leave the room, where she 
could read it by herself, before her husband came in. 
But at that moment, from some unaccountable reason, 
Helena suddenly awakened and sat up in bed. She 
saw the jewel case open on the table, one of the letters 
open beside it, the other in Mrs. Ruden’s hand. 

For the moment the sight seemed to bewilder her ; 
she looked at the letters vacantly, as if in a dream. 
She felt for the chain about her neck ; it was gone — so 
was the stupor. Springing from the bed, she con- 
fronted Mrs. Ruden, her eyes flashing, her lips speech- 
less. The woman shrank from the child’s gaze. It 
seemed to her as though the spirit mother had 
awakened her daughter and was looking at her through 
the child’s eyes. At last Helena spoke. But to Mrs. 
Ruden it was the mother speaking through her. 

“How dare you!” she exclaimed. “You had no 
right ! It was not to be opened until I’m fifteen.” 

Mrs. Ruden laid the letter down. For the moment 
she could frame no defense. The child’s angry, re- 
proachful look unnerved her. Unable to endure it 
longer — and fearful lest Annie would awaken and dis- 
cover her guilt, for she felt very guilty despite her 


64 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


reasoning to the contrary — she left the room. But 
Helena followed, demanding the chain and the key. 
Mrs. Ruden gave them up, without a protest ; then 
returned to the room and somewhat reasserting her- 
self said : 

Helena, you are only a little girl. I am wiser 
than you, and better able to judge what is right. I 
have not intended to wrong you, nor have I done so. 
I found that valuable jewel case under the bureau, and 
naturally wondered how you came by it, for little girls 
don’t usually have such things; and I considered it 
my duty to learn if it rightfully belonged to you. 
Then my interest in you prompted me to read your 
letter, thinking it might give some clue to your rela- 
tives or friends, and it has. The other letter — the one 
your mother forbade you to read — is not opened. 
See ; here it is ! Look at the seal and see for yourself. 
So don’t take it so much to heart.” 

Then, as though speaking more to the invisible 
mother than to the child, she resumed : If there are 
any secrets in that letter which the world is not to 
know, they are secrets still. So be at rest.” , , 

Without a word Helena returned to her bed, and 
was soon sleeping. But Mrs. Ruden could not sleep. 
To her the scene meant much. She felt that Gertrude 
Channing was there, watching over her child. 

“ Yes,” she mused, she was surely here ! Nothing 
can ever alter my opinion on that point. And she 
came here for a purpose. Yes ; I see it all now, it’s as 
clear as day. She intended Helena to live with Mrs.Mar- 
vin until she was old enough to go to this Mr. Bryan ; 
but now that the child is thrown on the world, she 
wants her to go to him at once, and has used me as 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 65 


the instrument with w^hich to bring it about. She 
caused my curiosity to be aroused, she assisted me to 
open the box, and permitted me to read the letter 
addressed to Helena in peace, but she forbade me to 
read the other one, and succeeded in preventing me 
from doing so. Now she wants me to assist Helena in 
getting to Mr. Bryan. I know it ; I feel it strongly. 
But who is this Sidney Bryan? What was he to Mrs. 
Channing ? I wish I knew, but probably I never shall. 
Were I to open that letter now, she might appear to 
me in person. No, I dare not tamper with it, and 
whatever secret it holds shall be a secret still. But my 
duty is clear ; I am to send her child to Mr. Bryan, she 
has impressed me with that fact, and were I not to 
heed her I believe she would haunt me through life.’* 


CHAPTER VI. 

A FEW days later Mr. Ruden left home on a two 
weeks’ canvassing tour, and Mrs. Ruden decided it 
would be wise to get rid of Helena before he returned, 
for the child occupied a warm corner in his heart, 
and he might object to having her turned adrift. Not 
that I would wrong her,” Mrs. Ruden kept saying to 
herself ; but I know it’s the best thing I can do to 
help her. Probably this Sydney Bryan is rich. Per- 
haps he was an old lover of her mother’s. Anyhow, 
it’s better for her to go. We can’t keep her long, and 
the Wilsons might not want her at all. So if she’s ever 
to go to him she’d better go now,” 


66 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


The day after Mr. Ruden left home, Mrs. Ruden 
told Helena the contents of the letter, and advised 
that she should lose no time in going to Mr. Bryan. 
Helena protested, thinking such a course would be 
in opposition to her mother's wish. But Mrs. Ruden 
succeeded in overruling her objections, and in con- 
vincing her that under the circumstances her going 
was the very thing her mother would wish. 

Three days afterward she was ready to set forth. 
After many inquiries Mrs. Ruden had learned that 
Carl Oppenheimer, the grocer’s boy around the corner 
was going to New York to meet his parents who were 
on their way" from the fatherland. Carl was a stupid 
Dutchman, with a pink and white skin and straw- 
colored hair ; but he was a kind-hearted boy, and 
promised to look after Helena and see her to the 
address given him. Mrs. Ruden felt some misgiv- 
ings in entrusting the child to him ; she would have 
much preferred some one of more intelligence and ex- 
perience. But Carl could read enough English to 
find a name and number, and speak enough to make 
himself understood. 

When the final moment of departure came, and 
Helena turned away clinging to Carl’s big red hand, a 
feeling of sympathy sprang up in Mrs. Ruden’s heart. 
She looked at Annie, her own child, so happy and 
free from care. Suppose she were ever fatherless, 
motherless, and turned out into the world alone ? The 
thought caused a sigh to escape her lips, and a tear to 
moisten her eye. 

** Helena, be sure to write me as soon as you get 
there,” she impulsively called out ; and if you don’t 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 67 

find everything all right, or if he doesn’t want you, 
come back with Carl. We’ll manage somehow.” 

On arriving in New York, Carl looked at his big 
silver watch and found that he had barely time to 
take Helena to her destination and find his way to the 
steamship dock over in Hoboken. The city was al- 
most as bewildering to him as it was to his little 
charge, but after numerous inquiries he found the far- 
famed Wall Street, and succeeded in finding the num- 
ber indicated. They ascended the marble steps and 
entered a long wide hall, which in itself seemed to 
them a busy thoroughfare. Men were hurrying to 
and fro, messenger boys rushing in and out, each and 
all so intent on their own business that not one 
thought, one look even, was bestowed upon the child. 
She felt it too, and felt so isolated, so lost ; and more 
firmly grasping Carl’s hand, gazed about in wonder 
and awe. A man in uniform directed them to the 
elevator — a thing unknown to Helena. The elevator 
boy let them out on the fourth floor. 

“You’ll find Mr. Bryan,” he said, “ around there on 
the left — room nineteen.” 

Without difficulty they found the number, and saw 
on the door in big black letters : “ Sidney Bryan, Ban- 
ker and Broker.” 

Carl felt relieved. “ Veil, dish ish de plaze,” he 
said quickly ; “ und now me t’inks I get me back mit 
hurry to meet me fadder und me mudder.” And 
thinking he had done his full duty he hurried away, 
leaving Helena standing there with her heart beating 
at a rapid rate. 

Summoning all her courage she knocked on the 


68 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


door. It was opened by a young man who wore eye- 
glasses, and carried a pen behind his ear. 

‘‘ Are you Mr. Sidney Bryan she asked timidly. 

No, little girl ; I am not Mr. Bryan.” 

Well, Fve come to see him ; I was sent.” 

Mr. Bryan is not here to-day,” replied the clerk ; 
‘‘but if there’s anything I can do for you tell me what 
it is.” 

“ Doesn’t he live here?” asked Helena earnestly. 

The clerk surveyed the little black-robed figure 
quizzically, then smilingly replied: “Well, no; he 
doesn’t exactly live here — this is his office. He lives 
uptown, but he has gone over to Philadelphia to-day^ 
and won’t be back before to-morrow.” 

Like a blow it occurred to the child that she was 
alone — abandoned as it were, in the great city. Quick 
as a flash she turned and ran quickly through the 
hall. “O sir,’' she cried to the astonished clerk, 
“ please show me the way out. I must catch Carl — 
the boy that brought me here !” 

The clerk stepped hurriedly to the elevator, pressed 
the button, and two minutes later Helena was rushing 
through the main hall into the street. For a moment 
she looked eagerly in both directions, then darted 
toward Broadway — the direction from whence they 
had come. But Carl had disappeared. On and on 
she ran, like a frightened fawn, until she reached 
Broadway. There she paused, and glanced up and 
down the apparently endless thoroughfare, while a 
look of terror settled on her face, and a cry of despair 
burst from her lips. She realized that it was useless to 
look for Carl ; he was lost in the crowd. 

To Helena, Broadway was an appalling sight. It 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


69 


crowds of people, and the roar and rumble of its 
countless drays and cabs and carts, passing in a tur- 
bulent procession over the rocky pavement, made a 
scene so strange and wonderful that she became be- 
wildered, and did not know which way to turn. She 
looked appealingly at the passers-by, but their stony 
stare, if they looked at her at all, impressed her with 
their utter indifference to her helplessness. She re- 
alized that she had lost Carl, and now felt that she was 
lost herself. She did not break down and cry ; had 
she done so she would have found numerous advisers 
and protectors, who would have been only too glad to 
assist her had they known her condition, for with all 
their apparent selfishness New Yorkers have the larg- 
est hearts in the world. But their blank far away 
looks, entirely misunderstood by her prevented a 
direct appeal to anyone ; and standing there on the 
corner of Wall and Broadway, opposite old ‘‘ Trinity,” 
she felt as if she had not a friend in the world. 

Suddenly, far up the street, she heard a sound above 
the commotion which caused apparent terror to take 
possession not only of the horses, but of their drivers, 
and to momentarily stop the progress of the people 
who were passing. Almost immediately, out of a per- 
fect jam of carriages, wagons and carts she saw a team 
of magnificent greys, madly galloping over the pave- 
ment, attached to a fire engine, which was whistling 
furiously. It had hardly disappeared down Rector 
Street when the hook and ladder wagon, clanging its 
gong, and loaded with firemen, many of them clinging 
to its sides, came dashing madly past, and then the 
crowd once more moved on as if nothing had happened. 
But all this to Helena — born and bred in a country 


70 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

hamlet, far removed from such sights and sounds — was 
indeed terrifying and awoke in her most strange and 
unpleasant sensations. 

At last she sighted the churchyard opposite, sur- 
rounding Trinity Church. That alone appeared rest- 
ful — so restful, despite the babel passing its gates. To 
her it seemed like an old friend, it being the only 
familiar sight which had greeted her. Even the tomb 
stones, darkened with age, and green with moss, re- 
minded her of similar ones in the quiet churchyard in 
Clydesville, where her mother lay, and where she and 
Billy had pledged themselves to each other. In her 
grief and despair she looked longingly across the 
street as to a sacred spot — a haven of rest. Watching 
her chance she boldly made an attempt to cross, dodg- 
ing this way and that, now under a horse’s head, 
almost under their very hoofs, around wheels, and 
between carriages, until she reached the other side 
unharmed. 

The gates of Trinity Churchyard were open, and 
breathless and frightened, she hurried through them. 
Going around to the south side as far from Broadway 
as she could possibly get, she sat down on the stone 
ledge to rest. Close beside her was a grave, whose 
headstone was blackened by time, cracked in places, 
and covered with moss. The inscription read : 

“ In 

memory 

of 

JOSEPH, 
son of John and Mary Pell, 
who departed this life 
the 15th of February, 1802, 
aged 6 years, 9 months & 10 days.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 71 

There was more, but it was so obliterated by the 
ravages of time as to be almost unreadable. 

“ Poor little Joseph Pell,” she mused. Fm glad he's 
not here in this dreadful city. Fm glad he’s safe in 
Heaven, and I wish I was. O mamma ! O Billy ” 

At that instant a Sixth Avenue L ” train came 
thundering up to the station, under whose very shadow 
she sat. It seemed to her as though it were rushing 
directly upon her, and in alarm she sprang to her feet, 
and out of the way. On discovering there was no 
danger she again sat down, thankful that her mother 
did not lie where there was so much noise and confu- 
sion. 

After becoming rested and somewhat calmed, the 
restlessness peculiar to childhood took possession of 
her and she rose from the ground resolving to go up 
town and find Mr. Bryan’s home. If he isn’t there,” 
she thought, “ maybe his wife is, and I can stay with 
her till he comes back.” 

Leaving the churchyard she walked to the corner of 
Rector Street, then eager to escape from bewildering 
Broadway she turned the corner and wandered on as 
far as West Street. There she paused, not knowing 
which way to turn. Timidly approaching a man 
standing on the corner she inquired which way was 
uptown. He indicated the direction by a nod of his 
head, and Helena followed the direction. 

I sha’n’t know when I get to the right house,” she 
thought, but after I’ve gone far enough to be ‘ up 
town ’ then Fll ask the people I meet, and most likely 
somebody will know where Mr. Bryan lives. If he 
lived in Clydesville everybody would know.” 

West Street was as difficult to walk as Broadway, 


72 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


and far less pleasing, even to the child’s sensibilities. 
She instinctively realized that she had suddenly come 
in contact with a rougher element. The very atmos- 
phere was different. The pedestrians represented 
people of all classes, from the ’longshoreman, idling in 
front of a dive while waiting for a job, to the spruce 
traveler, hurrying to catch a ferryboat ; while the stale 
meats, fish, and decaying fruits exposed to view gave 
forth an odor unknown to Broadway. After walking 
a few blocks, Helena was quite disillusioned, so far as 
her previous impressions concerning the superiority 
and grandeur of New York City, and city folks. 

West Street presents an odd spectacle to a country- 
man — old or young — when viewing it for the first 
time. Its wharves, and wonderful shipping extending 
so far on one side ; its junk shops, fruit stalls, ‘Agents ” 
clothing stores, peanut stands. Cheap John’s bazaars, 
candy stands, butcher shops, street venders, and low 
dives on the other, and all with an utter disregard of 
the ‘‘eternal fitness of things.” 

On one corner was the happy frankfurter man, a 
familiar figure in certain parts of the city, and still 
more familiar at Coney Island, during July and 
August. This particular frankfurterer was a charac- 
ter, from his humorous blue eyes to his crownless hat 
and Joseph-like coat. In a voice proceeding from his 
stomach — if judgbd by the pitch — he repeated, hour 
after hour, without cessation or change of tone : 
“ ’Ere’s yer red ’ot frankfurters, gents! Come on 
gents, walk right up, an’ get ’em while they’re ’ot, 
gents ! ” Whether the “ gents ” heeded his invitation 
or not, was apparently a matter of supreme indiffer- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


73 


ence to him. His only duty or thought seemed to end 
with issuing the invitation. 

The day was oppressively warm, and the odor from 
the hot sizzling things, together with swarms of innum- 
erable flies feasting from a basket of sticky-looking 
cakes near by, made the child feel faint and ill ; never- 
theless she stood as though fascinated, watching the 
writhing contortions of the fellow's otherwise happy- 
go-lucky sort of face. An organ grinder came along ; a 
diminutive, bent, swarthy creature, resembling an ape 
as much as a man, and began turning out ‘‘ The Babies 
on our Block." In an instant the man of frankfurters 
was spinning around to the tune, but his monotonous 
voice continued to pour forth Red 'ot frankfurters’ 
to the '' gents." 

A little farther on a man was selling oranges from a 
push-cart. Soon a policeman came pompously along, 
surveyed the man and the oranges, then helped him- 
self to a couple of the largest, at the same time mut- 
tering a few words to the vender. The latter shrugged 
his shoulders, then reluctantly put his hand in his 
pocket and withdrawing a piece of silver, handed it to 
the blue-coat. 

On the next block a poor pale sickly-looking speci- 
men of humanity was selling shoestrings and cheap 
cuff buttons. Move on ; move on there, or I’ll run 
yez in!" was the same blue-coat’s order to him. The 
man of strings and buttons gave him a look of hate, 
not unmixed with fear ; but he moved on. 

Helena in her innocence did not know why the fat 
orange man with his obstructing push-cart was per- 
mitted to remain, while the thin shad-like vender who 
made no obstruction was made to move on, but the 


74 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


raggedest urchin on the street could have easily told 
her. 

As the poor wretch was moving away, a well-dressed 
and handsom'e woman, who had heard the officer’s 
order, stepped up to the man and handed him a silver 
dollar which she took from her purse ; then turning to 
the officer said calmly : 

Sir, your treatment of this man is very unjust and 
uncalled for.’’ The officer gave her an impudent 
stare, but she coolly continued : 

‘^Inasmuch as you are fortunate enough to eat and 
drink at the city’s expense, why do you prevent this 
less fortunate person from earning enough to provide 
himself a bite as well ?” 

Then this officer of the law, with a scowl and an 
oath, replied : I knows me own biz; an’ I don’t 

want no d — d cranks a interferin’ neither. See ?” 

The lady threatened to report him to his captain, 
but he turned on his heel with a sneering laugh, and 
walked slowly away, his expression indicating that he 
and his captain were solid,” and that he considered 
her threat a good joke. 

Helena had by this time become very tired. The 
excitement of the scenes she had witnessed had in a 
measure buoyed her up, but being unaccustomed to 
walking on pavements, she was almost ready to drop. 
Seeing a girl about her own age she accosted her, and 
asked if she were uptown yet. The girl’s mouth 
opened wide ; she stared at her a moment then burst 
into a yell of derision. 

Come ’ere, Mag,” she called to another girl half a 
block away. Come ’ere quick, an’ git onter de greeny 
what’s los’, an’s askin’ if dis be’s uptown.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


75 


Fm not a ^ greeny/ ” returned Helena with spirit. 

And I’m not rude and bold like you New York girl, 
either.” 

With that she went on, the coarse jeers of the two 
girls ringing in her ears as she went. Her ideas of 
city girls were materially changed. Once she had 
thought that to live in a large town or city, was the chief- 
est of all things to be desired. But child-like, judging 
the whole city — all cities, in fact — by her own limited 
and unpleasant experience, and all city girls by the 
two toughs ” she had just encountered, her mind 
was not only disillusioned, but greatly preiudiced as 
well. 


CHAPTER VII 

Suddenly Helena found herself in a large building 
of vast proportions. How she came there she did not 
know. She had no remembrance of opening or enter- 
ing any door. Near her stood a big fat man, weighing 
out a pound of kidneys for an equally big woman, 
with a basket on her sleeveless arm. 

Where am I ?” the child asked. 

The man paid no heed, but continued to weigh the 
kidneys, taking two off the scales, then putting one 
back. 

Shure, an’ it’s yerself as should know where's yez 
^ am ’ widout axin’,” said the sleeveless woman. 

‘‘I hope — I’m — not lost,” said Helena as though in 
doubt. 

‘‘ Divil a bit,” returned the woman with a croaking 


76 WHAT WOtJLD THE WORLD THINK? 

laugh. Shure, an’ it’s in the market yez is ; an' 
how thin could yez git losed in Washington market, 
the wan what iverybody knows is named after the 
father av yer country — savin’ their graces, Adam an’ 
Eve.” 

Where is the way out and uptown ?” asked Hel- 
ena. 

Shure an’ it’s as straight as a string ahead. Jest 
follow the nose on yer face, widout turnin’ to the right 
ner left, an’ whin yez git there ye’ll be after findin’ 
it.” 

The child thought Washington market must be the 
largest building in the world long before reaching the 
uptown end, where she found herself as unexpectedly 
out of the building and on the street, as she had found 
herself off the street and within the building. 

She wandered on as far as Vestry Street, then 
wearied and hungry turned the corner, and going a 
short distance sat down in the doorway of a deserted 
hall to rest and appease her hunger with one of Mrs. 
Ruden’s sandwiches. On a cellar door close by, some 
smutty-faced urchins were playing craps. For a time 
she watched their game, then gradually her head 
drooped and ere long she was asleep — the pearl jewel 
case clasped within her arms. 

Soon, from around the corner of Washington Street 
appeared a girl on the scene — a girl of some twelve 
years, hard-featured, matted-haired, and with pale 
watery blue eyes. She too, watched the game of 
craps, until her eyes suddenly sighted the little black 
robed figure in the doorway. Helena was a foreign 
element in that locality as the girl quickly discovered. 
Cautiously she pressed forward ; nearer and nearer, to 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 77 

the sleeping child. A portion of the wrapping had 
become torn, and worn away, revealing to sight one 
side of the pearl jewel case. A greedy, wolfish expres- 
sion came to the girls eyes. On tip toe she stealthily 
advanced, leaned over, made a grab, then darted down 
the street with her ill-gotten gain. 

A dirt-begrimed boy, known as “ Mikey de chump,” 
witnessed the act, and with a howl of disapproval 
started in quick pursuit. The others dropped their 
craps, echoed the chump’s ” howl, and followed. 

Awakened by their shouts, Helena sprang up, dis- 
covered that her treasure was missing, and uttered a 
loud cry. On seeing the urchins disappearing around 
the corner, it occurred to her that they were the 
thieves, and with a pitiful shriek she started after 
them. 

‘‘ Give it back to me !” she cried. It’s mine — from 
my mamma ; O please give it back !” 

A moment later she came upon them. Mikey de 
chump,” and the wolfish girl were engaged in a rough 
and tumble fight for the possession of the jewel case, 
which the others were enjoying in high glee. Helena 
caught sight of it under the girl’s arm, and sprang 
forward, but one of the crap shooters held her back. 

“ Youse stay away, kid,” he said, “if yez don’ want 
ter be hurted, fer Moll de rat’ll give youse a bat wid 
’er fist, an’ Moll’s fist ain’ none o’ de sof’est.” 

By a dexterous move the “ chump ” wrenched the 
jewel case from under the girl’s arm, and in triumph 
handed it to Helena. 

“Now let up on yer snivellin’,” he said. “Moll, 
she gived me a tussle, but I’ve tussled ’er all holler dis 
time,” 


78 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

Helena grasped her property, and began to pour 
out her thanks, but the boy, unaccustomed to such 
language, hung his head, while a dull red was visible 
beneath the grime on his face. 

Never youse min’ ’bout givin’ de chump all o’ dat 
guff,” said a frouzy, tow-haired hoodlum ; but jest 
whack up ! Whackin’ up’s better’n givin’ guff. See ?” 

Whack up what ?” asked Helena. 

I’ll show yez !” replied the tow-head, making a 
grab for the jewel case. But Helena was too quick 
for him, and clasping it more firmly within her arms 
she darted from their midst. 

O no yez don’t — yez don’t play none o’ dat !” ex- 
claimed the miserable urchin, running after her. Soon 
she was surrounded by half a dozen of these greedy 
young street arabs, and in desperation she showed 
them the contents. 

A yell of disappointment and disgust arose. The 
prospective jewels which they had supposed the child 
had stolen, and which she would be forced to divide 
among them, proved to be but two letters entrusted to 
her care. 

‘^Give us de box, den !” shouted one. ‘‘Dat ain’t so 
slow ; an’ youse can keep all de writin’. So jest 
whack over ! See ?” 

A crowd had begun to gather — a curious morbid 
crowd, eager to see the “ fun,” but too indifferent, too 
indolent to care who was being wronged, or who 
righted. Then a police officer appeared on the scene. 

“ What’s the row ?” he demanded. 

No one spoke. He sighted Helena — with flashing 
eyes, and tear stains still visible on her flushed cheeks. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 79 

He observed that she was not a child of the slums — 
that she belonged to a different atmosphere. 

'' What's the row ?” he again demanded more 
sternly than before. Then one of the urchins spoke. 

De kid," he said, pointing to Helena, “ got ’er 
stuff stoled by ^ Moll de rat,' an' ^ Mikey de chump,' 
'e pitched inter Moll, an' took it frum 'er, an’ gived it 
back ter de kid. Den ‘ Frouzy,’ wanted 'er ter whack 
up, an’ 'er wouldn't, 'cause der wasn't nothin' ter 
whack. Dat's de hull story, Mister Cop." 

Before Boldy ” had done speaking the crowd had 
mostly disappeared, Moll and Frouzy " having 
‘^sneaked " at sight of the officer. 

Now little girl," he said turning to Helena, tell 
me who you are, and how you came here, and all 
about it.” 

Helena did not reply, not knowing where to begin 
or what to say. 

“ What's your name ?" he again asked. 

Helena Channing." 

Where do you live ?" 

No answer. 

Tell me — you need not be afraid," said the officer, 
speaking as kindly as he could. 

I don’t live anywhere now," she returned hesitat- 
ingly, ‘‘but I think I’m going to live with Mr. Bryan 
when he comes home." 

“ Where is Mr. Bryan ?" 

“ A man told me he'd gone to Philadelphia." 

“Whatman?" 

“ Mr. Bryan’s man." 

“ Where is your home ?" 

“ I haven’t any." 


8o 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


Who have you been living with ?” 

With my mamma first, but she died. Then with 
Mrs. Hopdyke, and then with Mrs. Ruden.’* 

Where did your mamma live ?” 

In Clydesville, and Mrs. Hopdyke lives there too.** 
*^And Mrs. Ruden ?*’ 

No sir ; she lives in Newburg.** 

“ Is she related to you ?” 

“ No sir. She only took me in.’* 

When did you leave Clydesville ?** 

About two weeks ago.'* 

** Why did you leave there ?’* 

The child hesitated, and became uneasy ; but the 
officer insisted on knowing. At last she stammered 
out : Because I wouldn’t stay with Mrs. Hopdyke 

any longer, and nobody else wanted me.” 

Why wouldn’t you stay with Mrs. Hopdyke?” 
Because she was mean to me. I had to stay home 
alone, and wash the dishes, and mind the pigs, and 
knit the socks, and shell peas, and — and everything 
else. And then she gave my things to Martha, 
because Martha was her own girl, and I wasn’t.” 

A remembrance of her past wrongs had caused the 
child to say her say with vehemence, and its conclu- 
sion was greeted with shouts ^of laughter from mem- 
bers of the hoodlum element which had gradually 
gathered about, curious to know what was up ’tween 
de cop, an’ de swell kid.” The officer raised his club, 
and they quickly dispersed. 

‘‘Who took you from Clydesville to Newburg?” he 
asked, resuming the examination. 

Mr. Ruden took me.” 

To his own home ?” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


Yes, sir/' 

Why didn’t you stay there ?" 

Because Mrs. Ruden didn’t want me any longer. 
She said my mamma wanted me to come here and live 
with Mr. Bryan, and she said she couldn’t afford to 
keep me any longer anyway, because I was always 
hungry, and ate so much bread and milk. I guess I 
did eat a lot of it ; but she didn’t give me much of 
anything else, so I had to, and I didn’t have even 
enough of that.” 

How did you get here?” 

Mrs. Ruden got a Dutchman to bring me ; but she 
said if I couldn’t live with Mr. Bryan that the Dutch- 
man would bring me back.” 

Where did he leave you?” 

‘‘At a big store in Wall Street, and then he hurried 
away and I couldn’t find him.” 

The officer smiled significantly. “ A clear case of 
abandonment,” he muttered, mentally congratulating 
himself on his shrewdness, keen discernment, and won- 
derful detective ability. 

“Well, little girl,” he said, “ this case must be in- 
vestigated. In the meantime I’ll hand you over to 
the Gerry Society, where you’ll be well cared for. 
Now give me the full name and address of this Mrs. 
Ruden, and I’ll see that you ” 

At that instant an old couple approached the officer. 
Evidently they had just arrived from the country. 
The man carried a big black shiny satchel, and a stout 
hickory cane ; the woman, a carpet bag and a blue 
cotton umbrella. 

“Say, Mister Policeman,” began the old man, “ can 
ye tell us which o’ them there cars to git into to take us 


82 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


Up to East Tenth Street, whar our gal Mary Ann lives 
Ye see, las*^ summer, right after harvestin’, she went an’ 
got married to one o' them firemen o’ your’n, an’ he 
brung her down here to live ; an’ ma an’ me has come 
down to pay her a visit. She was to met us at the 
boat landin’ place, but she didn’t show up ; so we set 
out on foot, thinkin’ mebbe weM find her on the way. 
But Jimminy Christmas! Seems though we’ve met 
everybody but her ; an’ I must say, this town beats all 
I ever heard tell on fur bein’ friendly an’ sociable. 
Soon’s we’d left the boat-shed everybody smiled at us 
as friendly like as if they’d knowed us all their lives, an’ 
a whole parcel o’ fellers tried their level best to git us 
to take a ride with ’em. They all had real nice covered 
buggies too ! But we thought we’d better walk along, 
as we’d be more likely to meet Mary Ann, than if we 
was a ridin’. Pretty soon a boy wanted to carry our 
traps fur us, an’ he was jest set an’ determined on 
carryin’ ’em too; an’ I do declare if one boy offered to 
carry ’em a dozen did. I never did see such obligin’ a 
lot of boys before. But say. Mister Policeman, mebbe 
I’m a takin’ up your time with my yarnin’.” 

O no ; I’m glad to meet you,” said the officer 
smiling. 

That’s jest what everybody seems to be,” con- 
tinued the old hayseed. I do b’lieve we’d be wel- 
come to stop an’ stay a spell in most any house in 
town, judgin’ from the way folks kep’ askin’ us all 
the way along to come in an’ hev somethin’. One 
feller he wanted to give me some cigars to smoke, 
but I didn’t take ’em. A clay pipe’s good enough 
fur me, an’ once in a while, I takes a pinch o’ 
snuff, an’ I chaws a little, but not reg’lar. I used 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 83 

to think city folks was awful stuck up; but jim- 
miny crickets ! these Yorkers is the freest folks I ever 
see. Why, one feller come along dressed up fit to kill. 
Sich style, whew ! you’d a thunk to look at him that 
he was the proudest and conceitedest fop agoin’, but 
he wasn’t a bit. He come up to us real friendly-like 
an’ asked if I wasn’t Mister Rutherford of Harpers- 
ville, up on the D. an’ H. road ? I told him no, I was 
Simon Jenkinson, from Guilford, up on the O. an’ W. 
Then he laughed an’ said fur all the world I looked 
jest like his friend Rutherford used to look, but he 
hadn’t seen him in quite a spell an’ he might a changed 
somewhat. Then he remarked that we looked real 
tired, an’ he was bent an’ determined on our goin’ with 
him to a nice place he knew on to hev somethin’ to eat 
an’ to git rested. But ma, she wouldn’t stop. She 
said we’d git enough to eat when we got to Mary 
Ann’s, an’ she was in a hurry to git there. So we 
come on, an’ the feller come too, and kep’ a showin’ us 
the sights, an’ chattin’ as friendly as if he’d knowed us 
all our lives. But all of a sudden ma, she spied you, 
an’ says she : ^ Simon, there’s one o’ them city con- 
stables, sure’s I live.’ Then the feller looked up quick, 
an’ when he seen you he said you w^as a p’liceman, an’ 
would give us all the directin’ we wanted, an’ as long 
as we wouldn’t go with him, an’ wouldn’t accept nothin’ 
from him, even fur old resemblance sake, why he 
guessed he’d have to bid us good bye an’ hurry home. 
So then he hurried off, an’ now as ma an’ me is pretty 
well tuckered out, we’ve concluded to ride the rest of 
the way, seein’ our Mary Ann says it only costs five 
cents a piece. I don’t s’pose all them cars go past 


84 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


Mary Ann’s house, so if you’ll tell us which is the right 
one, we’ll be much obliged.” 

While the officer was cautioning the old couple to 
beware of such sharks,” as the one who had followed 
them for old resemblance sake,” and directing them 
to their route, Mikey the boy who had wrested the 
jewel case from Moll de rat,” stole cautiously to 
Helena’s side and whispered : 

Does yer know what de cop’s a goin’ ter do wid 
youse ?” 

Helena comprehended enough of the hoodlum dia- 
lect to scent mischief, and glanced imploringly at her 
defender, who added in a tone to thoroughly arouse 
her alarm: ‘‘ He’s goin’ ter put yez wid de ’ciety, an’ 
den yez won’t never git out no more ; an’ its worse’n 
bein’ in de jug — dat’s w’at Jerry says, an’ ’e knows, 
’cause his little sister ’er got took by ’em an’ ’er hadn’t 
done nothin* but sell papers on de street.” 

What do you mean by being in the jug ?” Helena 
asked in sudden alarm. 

De Tombs!” he added quickly. ‘'But if youse 
wants ter skip wid me. I’ll see yez out o’ de scrape.” 

Without a word the child placed her hand confi- 
dingly in the “ chumps ” black sticky one, and away 
they went. Only for him, Helena would have been 
placed in charge of the sometimes over-scrupulous 
“ Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children,” 
and what the result would have been we are unable to 
say. Had the Society listened to her story, and read 
her mother’s letter, it might have acted in accordance 
with the request it contained; otherwise, the child’s 
life would have been to us a sealed book, and this 
story never been written. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


85 


When Mikey learned that his little charge wanted 
to go to Mr. Bryan’s house, and that she could give 
no address other than uptown,” he expressed his 
surprise by a prolonged whistle. 

‘‘ Hully gee !” he exclaimed. Dere’s t’ousan’s an’ 
millions o’ housens up dere, an’ how’s a cove ter fin’ 
de right one, widout no street an’ no number?” 

The prospect of going to Mr. Bryan was finally 
abandoned. Then what to do was the question. The 
child stood irresolute, not knowing which way to turn. 

Wouldn’t your mother let me stay at your house 
for just to-night,” she asked pleadingly. 

Again the boy whistled. Poor Helena, in her inno- 
cence, and ignorance of life could form no conception 
of the boy’s home. Could she have glanced into it, 
she would have fled in fear and disgust. A damp 
cellar, abounding in squalor, and vermin, was no place 
for her, as the street gamin instinctively knew; and 
shaking his head, he replied : 

Der ain’t no room. De ole man an’ de ole woman 
has de bed, an’ Patsy an’ Tim has de bunk, an' me an’ 
Pete has de floor ; an’ besides dat, de ole woman ’er’s 
got a jag on ter day, an’ ’er wouldn’ let yez in.” 

What’s a jag on ?” asked Helena. 

‘‘ A drunk — a booze,” returned the boy in a shame- 
faced manner 

I think I’ll go back to Mr. Bryan’s place in Wall 
Street,” said Helena. Maybe the man I saw there 
will let me stay. I don’t know where else to go.” 

The boy undertook to conduct her there evidently 
feeling the importance of his mission. Child of the 
slumbs though he was, born and bred amid immorality 
and vice, nevertheless, a spark — a large spark, too — of 


86 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

manliness, dwelt beneath his repulsive exterior. He 
felt that Helena was different from the girls he knew, 
and becoming quite confidential, told her so. 

Vouse ain’t one bit like Moll,” he said, ner 
Sleepy Sal, ner Mag, ner one-eyed Luce, ner Beck de 
Pickle, ner none of ’em. Guess youse belongs to de 
swells^ an! got losed. See ?” 

Helena did not exactly know what belonging to de 
swells ” meant, or whether she belonged to them or 
not, but frankly admitted that she was lost. 

Why do you call Moll Me rat ’?” she asked, as 
they walked along. 

Cause ’er squeals, an’ ’er bites ; an’ Beck sulks, 
she’s sour’n de Dutchman’s pickles. An’ Luce got 
one eye knocked out by Paddy de ’orse,” w’en ’e had 
a jag on. Paddy’s a longshoreman, an’ ’e’s so big ’e 
kin drawer bales o’ cotton on a truck like a ’orse.” 

The child was greatly interested in Mikey ’s wonder- 
ful accounts of the queer people belonging to his 
world, a world entirely apart from her own ; and the 
numerous exploits attributed to them appeared to her 
almost equal to those of Jack of the famous bean 
stalk. 

At last they found the place in Wall Street, and had 
entered the hall when the janitor saw them. Git out, 
you rascal,” he shouted to the boy. What’s the 
loikes o’ you doin’ here? ” 

Ever on the defensive against knocks, kicks and 
thrashings, Mikey, darted into the street. But Helena 
stood her ground and manifested some of her old 
spirit. 

He’s not a rascal ! ” she exclaimed emphatically. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 8/ 

He’s a good boy, and he came here to show me the 
way.” 

Bad manners to ye. An’ if you plaze, who be 
you ? An’ if yer a decent girl where did yez pick up 
wid the loikes o’ him ? ” 

didn’t ‘pick’ him up!” replied Helena with. 
flashing eyes. “ And I am a decent girl. I came to 
see Mr. Sidney Bryan — my mamma sent me.” 

At the mention of Mr. Bryan, the janitor’s insolent 
manner instantly changed to fawning humility, and he 
informed her that Mr. Bryan’s offices were closed for 
' the day, and the last clerk gone. Bitterly disappointed 
the child went back to the street ; but Mikey had dis- 
appeared. 

“ What shall I do ? ” she cried. “ Where can I go ? ” 

A child of the slums would not have been at all dis- 
concerted — he, or she, would have known many places 
of refuge. But little Helena knew none of these. 
Hallways, alleys, dump carts, ash barrels and station 
houses, were alike unknowm to her. Standing there 
on the stone steps she keenly felt her forlorn condi- 
tion, and her young face seemed suddenly to age. 
The child was rapidly developing into the woman, 
overburdened with responsibility and care. She real- 
ized as never before that life was not altogether child’s 
play. 


88 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Descending the steps Helena mechanically turned 
toward Broadway. Not that she wished to go there, 
for she shrank from its bustle and confusion, but be- 
cause she had traversed the route before, and it was 
the only one with which she was at all familiar. 

As in the morning she stood for a time on the corner 
hopeless and irresolute. Then, again looking across 
the street, she saw the grim churchyard. It seemed ' 
her only refuge, and once more she watched her chance 
to cross and enter within its sheltering gates. When 
there she sank to the ground and burst into tears. 
Thousands of people were hurrying to and fro in all 
directions, but not one of them saw, or heard the 
child’s helpless cry of distress. Ere long two ladies 
and a little girl about her own age came out of the 
church. The child was beautifully dressed, and in a 
manner which the day before would have won Helena’s 
admiration, and a wish to be dressed the same. But 
the poor friendless child had no thought now of dress, 
she was too wearied ; and graver responsibilities 
claimed her attention. She sighed as she saw the 
little girl skip along so light hearted and free from 
care. 

O mamma !” she cried, while fresh tears streamed 
down her cheeks, ‘^if you only were here with me, like 
that little girl’s mother, how happy I’d be.” 

She rose from the ground, and going to the gate 
looked longingly after the ladies and the child, half 
tempted to run after them, tell them she had no place 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 89 


to go, and ask to accompany them home and stay 
until morning. But before she could make up her 
mind to do so they were lost in the crowd. 

Turning back she observed that the side door of the 
church was open, and aimlessly wandered in. When 
within the main body of the church she paused in 
amazement. The very grandeur and solemnity struck 
her with awe. The massive pillars and carved arches, 
the stained glass windows, the altar, everything, held 
her spellbound. Never before had she been in any 
church other than the little white chapel in Clydesville 
with its closed green shutters and whitewashed walls, 
and the magnificence of Trinity was beyond her con- 
ception. 

It being near the closing hour the church was de- 
serted by visitors. Presently Helena heard a foot-step, 
and on the far side of the church saw the sexton ap- 
proaching. Fearing to be reprimanded if seen, she 
quickly dropped into a pew and laid down, glad of a 
few minutes' rest before entrusting herself for the night 
to the hard ground outside. For a long time she lay 
there half asleep, when suddenly the great clock in the 
steeple tolled six. She sprang up in alarm, and hast- 
ened to the door by which she had entered, but it was 
locked. She tried them all, but in vain ; the sexton 
had gone and she was locked up in that great sombre 
place alone. The knowledge for a moment filled her 
with consternation, but unlike many children she did 
not scream, nor kick against the doors, but went instead 
back into the church and sat down to consider the situ- 
ation. Being a very philosophical little girl, she wisely 
concluded that she was far better off where she was, 
than she would be out on the ground among the 


90 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


toi^ibs. Besides,” she mused, I am safe here, for 
nobody can get in to hurt me.” 

Endeavoring to make the best of it and be as com- 
fortable as possible, she removed her shoes to rest her 
tired little feet, then ate another sandwich, being care- 
ful not to scatter any crumbs on the seat or on the 
floor. The church had now grown quite dark, and 
with a sudden feeling of terror she realized that the 
dreaded night-time had overtaken her. 

‘‘O mamma! O Billy!” she moaned, ‘‘how sorry 
you’d be if you knew I was shut up in this big church 
alone, and couldn’t get out. O mamma, can’t you 
come to me ? Please do ; I feel so lonesome and so 
afraid. It’s awful to be locked in like this.” 

Suddenly, as if by inspiration, she left her seat, and 
proceeding fearlessly to the altar, dropped on her 
knees, and clasping her hands, said aloud : 

“ Oh Lord, my mamma said that you could always 
hear me, and come to me ; but you’ve never seemed 
to come. But now, O Lord, I’m in Your house, the 
place where You live, and now I feel sure You can 
hear me. O Lord, please bless Billy, and don’t let 
him forget me ; and please do let my mamma come to 
me to-night, and please do make Mr. Bryan come 
home from Philadelphia to-morrow, and make him like 
me, and let me stay with him. O Lord, please do hear 
me this once, and do all I’ve asked, and I will try to be 
a good girl and not bother You any more, and I’ll 
never ask You for anything again. Amen.” 

Many prayers less crude, prayers clothed in more 
flowery language have ascended from that altar, but 
never a more sincere, or earnest one. 

From a desire to be near the door in order to escape 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 9I 

unseen in the morning the child on leaving the altar 
went to the last pew on the right hand side of the 
centre aisle, and in number forty-seven, threw herself 
down on the cushion for the night. She no longer 
felt afraid, and soon was as peacefully sleeping as 
though in bed in her old home in Clydesville, with her 
mother by her side. 

The night had far advanced. Broadway, in the 
neighborhood of Trinity, had at last become as quiet 
as a village street, except for the occasional rumble of 
a heavily loaded wagon, and the clock in the steeple 
striking the hours. The very stillness struck one as 
oppressive, and in strange contrast to the din and con- 
fusion of a few hours before. The massive buildings, 
so full of life then, were deserted now, and stood like 
grim monuments of ages ago, whose occupants were 
calmly sleeping in the churchyard, around which they 
stood in silent grandeur. Within the interior of the 
church the innumerable voices of the air — only heard 
when silence falls on the listening ear — filled the vast 
dome with mysterious whispers, and the noises of the 
world outside only penetrated its walls with a sound 
of deep solemnity. The moon had risen, and was 
shining through the stained glass windows, illuminat- 
ing the south side with a peculiar glow, and causing 
the colors on the glass to stand out in bold relief. 

Suddenly Helena raised up, hearing a noise like the 
rushing and rustling of innumerable wings, and saw 
advancing down the aisle what appeared to be a bright 
cloud, which was gradually assuming form. She gazed 
upon it as though spellbound, a look of wonder and 
awe on her face, which soon gave place to a look of 
joy. 


92 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


With breathless eagerness she watched its approach, 
and, when she clearly recognized the face and form 
she loved so well standing there with outstretched 
arms, she sprang forward with a cry of gladness, and 
was folded lovingly to her mother’s heart. 

0 mamma ! my own darling mamma,” she ex- 
claimed. I’m so glad the Lord let you come. I 
asked Him to, and He has.” 

My poor little darling,” was the low far-away 
answer, I did not have to come ; I was already here. 
I am with you always.” 

But I never see you mamma, and I am so lone- 
some, and I miss you so much.” 

1 have tried many times my child, to make you 
see me, and hear my voice, and to let you know I was 
with you, but I could not. A repelling atmosphere 
surrounded you, which my influence only could pene- 
trate. That, you have often felt ; Mrs. Ruden felt it 
too, and almost saw me that night when at my bidding 
she opened your letter. I could never appear to you 
clearly before, but to-night I found no difficulty.” 

Mamma, what made you leave me so soon ?” the 
child asked. I went to sleep that night, and then 
I never heard you speak again. When I woke up in 
the morning you were gone, and oh ! how I felt.” 

I could not stay with you, Helena,” replied the 
mother in a sad voice. I tried, but was borne away 
by an influence I could not resist. But remember my 
little one, I am constantly watching over you, 
and ” 

Do you watch over Billy, too, mamma ?” inter- 
rupted the child. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 93 

Billy has his father and mother, but you are alone 
in the world my precious one/' 

But mamma, please watch over Billy just a little 
too, and don’t let him forget me. Were you with us,” 
she asked suddenly, when Billy and I were 
married ?” 

^‘Yes, darling.” 

“ Well,” added the child sadly, Billy is all I have 
now ; nobody else wants me. And when I’m a big 
girl I’m going back to him.” 

The mother smiled, but made no audible reply. 

I wonder,” the child continued, if Mr. Bryan 
will want me, and let me stay with him until I can go 
back to Billy ?” 

‘Wes, Helena,” was the glad reply, “I did not esti- 
mate him wrongly, and throw you on the mercies of 
a selfish world. You will see him to-morrow, dear, 
and he will take you to live with him, and you will 
learn to love him very dearly. I cannot come to him 
as I have come to you. I have tried, but he does not 
see me, nor hear me ; but I want you to tell him for 
me that I ” 

The voice became indistinct ; the form was dissolv- 
ing into a misty fleeting vapor, and suddenly Helena 
found herself once more alone. 

“O mamma! please don’t leave me,” she piteously 
shrieked. “ O please come back — please do come 
back, or take me with you !” 

But the radiance was gone, as though overshadowed 
and absorbed by the darkness, and Helena realized 
that her mother had disappeared. 

“Perhaps the Lord won’t let me see my mamma 
again,” she moaned. “ I promised that I wouldn’t ask 


94 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

to^ and so I mustn’t. But I’m so glad that mamma is 
with me, and can see me, even if I can’t see her.” 

At the break of day Helena was awakened by the 
chorus of birds outside. Millions of them there 
seemed to be. She sprang up bewildered, unable for 
the moment to locate herself. 

^‘0 1 know — I remember,” she suddenly thought. 
‘H’m in the church ; and I dreamed that mamma came 
to me looking so beautiful, with a whole flock of angels 
behind her. It don’t seem like a dream at all, it was 
so real and true, and she talked to me so natural ; but 
I suppose it was.” 

It seemed a long time before the sexton unlocked 
the doors. The child began to fear that he was not 
coming at all, and that she would be a prisoner until 
the coming Sunday. But he came at last. On 
hearing his step she again dropped from sight within 
the pew, not daring to let him know of her presence. 

‘‘It’s the Lord’s house, and not his,” she thought ; 
“but the man might not think of it that way, and he 
might not like it because I slept here all night.” 

She watched her opportunity, and before long es- 
caped unseen. 

The next Sunday the usual occupants of pew forty- 
seven were there ; but they did not know that only a few 
nights before — unbidden — a child had occupied it, 
guarded over by the angels, and her spirit mother. 

Helena found her way alone to Mr. Bryan’s office. 
The janitor looked at her in surprise. 

“Indade, an’ yer an ’arly bird,” he said. “No- 
body’s down yit ; an’ as fer Mr. Bryan, he never comes 
till tin o’clock, an’ it’s only goin’ after sivin now.” 

Three hours to wait — it seemed an age to the anx- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 95 

ious child. The janitor found a chair for her in an 
obscure corner near the elevator, wondering who her 
mother could be to send her out at that hour. At 
last he informed her that Mr. Bryan had just gone up 
to his office, and her troubled face brightened. 

“I was sure he’d come,” she thought; ‘‘and now I 
know the Lord heard me last night, for he’s answered 
most everything I asked for already.” 

Mr. Bryan, a benevolent-looking man on the shady 
side of fifty, was seated at his desk when Helena 
timidly approached. 

“ My mamma sent me to you,” she began. “ That 
is, she wanted me to come when I was fifteen years 
old ; but Mrs. Ruden made me come now.” 

Mr. Bryan looked at his little visitor with a kindly, 
though puzzled expression ; offered her a chair close 
to his own, then inquired who her mamma was, and 
who Mrs. Ruden was. 

“ Mrs. Ruden is the women I was with,” returned 
Helena modestly ; “ but she is very poor, and did not 
want me any longer, so she sent me to you. That’s 
who Mrs. Ruden is. My mamma is ” 

The child suddenly paused, unwrapped the jewel 
case, and handing it to him together with the key 
said : 

“ There’s a letter for you in this, from mamma, and 
I guess it will tell you all about her, and about me, 
too, and why I’ve come.” 

Mr. Bryan looked at the jewel case earnestly, as 
though it recalled some bygone recollection, then un- 
locking it and opening the cover his eyes rested on 
the inscription : “To Gertrude, from Sidney.” 


96 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


A pallor swept over his face, and his voice trem- 
bled as he exclaimed : 

Child, who are you, and how came you by this?” 

I am Helena Channing,” she replied quickly, “ and 
the jewel case was mamma’s, but she gave it to me.” 

Mr. Bryan leaned back in his chair greatly over- 
come. 

O Gertrude ! Gertrude !” he murmured. Do I 
hear from you again after all these years, and in such 
a manner as this ? Through your child, and — his. O 
Gertrude ! this is too cruel ; I would not have be- 
lieved it of you. Child,” he exclaimed abruptly, 
‘‘ where is your mother ?” 

Mamma is dead.” 

‘^Dead? Gertrude dead ?” he repeated, a deeper 
pallor overspreading his face. Arising from his chair 
he left the room, going into an inner and strictly 
private office, where for a time he paced the floor in 
great mental agitation. At last he tore open the 
sealed envelope, and read the following : 

'' Clydesville, N. Y., April 20th, 18 — . 

Dear Sidney : — Forgive me for intruding myself 
upon you, and do not cast this letter aside unread, for 
when it reaches you I shall be in my grave. I am 
dying, friendless and alone, except for my little darling 
child, who will soon be an orphan. 

Oh ! Sidney ! I know not what to say to you. 
Words are inadequate to express all I wish, but if I 
could only see you once more, and on my knees crave 
and obtain your pardon for my cruel desertion, then I 
could die in peace. I have no excuse to offer for my 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 97 

sin. You were the kindest, and best of husbands, and 
I, your faithless wife, did not appreciate you until too 
late. I do not attempt to excuse my course — there is 
no palliation ; but try, Sidney, to think of me as 
kindly as you can. Remember I was very young — a 
mere girl of nineteen, thoughtless and gay. You were 
much older and wiser than I. But believe me, I was 
faithful to you even in thought, until Robert Channing 
crossed my path ; and never did I bring actual dis- 
honor to your name. He was handsome and clever ; 
he flattered me, and I, foolish young thing that I was, 
fancied I loved him. His influence over me was 
great ; I listened to him, and alas ! in a moment of 
temptation I forgot my marriage vows, my duty to 
you, and went with him. He took me to South Da- 
kota where, as you know, I secured a divorce and 
married him. 

Soon after going, I wrote you a long letter, confes- 
sing all ; but I did not tell you how unhappy, how re- 
morseful I was, nor of the severe struggle I had with 
my better self ere I was persuaded to take the final 
step. But it was too late to go back to you. I had 
chosen my path, and although a thorny one it proved 
to be, I followed it to the end until he died, leaving 
me with my infant child, Helena. 

Oh, Sidney, you know not what I have suffered — 
how severely I have been punished. But the end is 
nearly here. Only for my innocent child I would 
gladly go, and be at rest. I hope to have her cared 
for by a kind-hearted neighbor until she is fifteen years 
old ; then I want her to go to you. When I remem- 
ber your kind generous heart, I feel sure you will not 
turn her helplessly adrift 


98 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


I know I am asking something unheard of, but I 
know not where else to turn ; you are my only hope. 
Try, Sidney, to forget that she is my child — or his. 
Think of her only as a poor friendless orphan. I 
know how generously you have shielded me — shielded 
my name even after my cruel desertion. I know 
about your going to Mexico, and later how you caused 
our Eastern friends to think I had died during our 
travels, rather than let them know the disgraceful 
truth. When I think of your past kindnesses I am 
sure you will not disregard my dying request. 

I can write no more, for my strength is failing ; but 
I cannot close without imploring you once more to 
take my darling and care for her; and never, oh! 
never, let her read this letter, or get a suspicion of its 
contents. 

Yours, in hope and remorse, 

Gertrude. '' 


CHAPTER IX. 

Mr. Bryan carefully folded the letter and laid it 
away. His agitation had passed ; a calm, amounting 
almost to apathy, possessed him. He leaned back in 
his chair, covered his face with both hands, and for a 
long time sat reflecting on a bitter chapter in his life — 
a chapter which was a sealed book to all the world 
except himself. 

He well remembered the letter Gertrude had written 
soon after deserting him for Robert Channing. Her 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


99 


confession/' she had called it. It was a strange let- 
ter for a runaway wife to write her abandoned hus- 
band. It was more like what an erring daughter 
might have written to a tender, and well-loved parent, 
begging his forgiveness, and filled with expressions of 
regret, and remorse, for the one left, behind. 

Mr. Bryan, although much older than his wife — old 
enough in fact, to have been her father — had never 
doubted her affection for him. But a time came when 
she grew strangely restless and unlike herself. One 
day she would be eager and expectant ; the next, de- 
pressed and melancholy. But he was far from sus- 
pecting the cause. 

At a theatre party Gertrude had met handsome Bob 
Channing, in company with Helen and Will Belaires 
together with several others — all of excellent family. 
Helen Belaires was a particular friend of Gertrude. 
Will, her brother, was home from college on a vaca- 
tion, and somewhere about town had fallen in with 
Bob Channing. Finding him very clever, and in every 
way agreeable he had, without investigating his new 
friend's character, introduced him into his own home 
as well as to a number of his intimate friends. 

Bob's deportment had been so exemplary, and 
being endorsed as it were, by the Belaires, he secured 
without difficulty a small circle of good acquaintances. 

Later, Gertrude with Mr. Bryan attended a musicale 
in Mrs. Belaires’ drawing-room, where she again met 
him. From that time on they met repeatedly — at the 
matinee, the theatre, on the Avenue, and at small re- 
ceptions. Before Will Belaires returned to college, he 
called one morning to bid young Mrs. Bryan good-bye, 
bringing Bob Channing with him. 


lOO 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


Gertrude at that time would not have admitted even 
to herself that she entertained for Channing more than 
a passing regard, and would have been horrified at the 
bare possibility of ever leaving her husband for him. 
But Channing was hopelessly infatuated with her, and 
being of loose morals, did not scruple to make the in- 
fatuation mutual; and too soon he succeeded. 

On discovering that she was not indifferent to him, 
he put forth every effort to win her affection. He 
wrote charming little notes, so perfectly proper in 
their tone, that no one could have offered a word of 
criticism, except from the fact of their having been 
written at all. But to her — reading as she did be- 
tween the lines — they contained a silent language of 
their own. Then began her restlessness, and eager- 
ness ; followed by fits of melancholy. Young Chan- 
ning haunted her dreams by night, and her promen- 
ades by day. She seldom went out that she did not 
meet him before returning home. Ere long he ven- 
tured to make formal calls, at conventional hours, his 
deportment being strictly proper in every particular. 
Had it been otherwise, had he by one word exceeded 
the bounds of propriety, Gertrude would have can- 
celled his name from her list of guests. But he was 
too much of a tactician, and too diplomatic, to run 
any risk of expulsion. 

But a day came when he permitted his eyes to ex- 
press what his lips had never dared, and with silent 
pleasure he saw that she was far from indifferent to 
him. At last when he considered her so sufficiently 
under his influence as to be unable to resist him, he 
ran in one afternoon, ostensibly to bid her good bye. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


lOI 


Fm going away/’ he began in a regretful tone, 
‘^and have called — perhaps for the last time.” 

Closely watching the effect of his words, he observed 
with satisfaction, that a quick shade passed over her 
face. 

^^You surely will come back?” she asked in a low 
quiet tone. 

I hope to, certainly,” he returned, his look and 
voice expressing unmistakable significance. But,” 
he resumed despondently, We can never speak with 
any degree of certainty regarding the future.” 

A pain was at Gertrude Bryan’s heart ; she realized 
that she loved this handsome young fellow as she had 
never loved before, and now he was going out of her 
life — perhaps forever. For a time they conversed in a 
desultory manner, then he rose to go. 

Good bye,” he said, offering his hand. She gave 
him hers in return, which he clasped with a gentle 
pressure. Their eyes met — met in a long silent look. 
Then prudence was thrown to the winds, and he im- 
pulsively clasped her to his breast. 

My own darling!” he exclaimed. My dearest 
love ! how can I ever leave you ?” 

She drew back, half indignant, and thoroughly 
frightened. 

Forgive me,” he said quickly. I did not mean to 
— it was an impulse I could not resist. Please do not 
be angry,” he pleaded. I really did not intend to so 
far forget myself.” 

An older and more worldly wise woman would have 
understood him better ; but Gertrude Bryan was not 
only inexperienced, but in love with the man who 
sued for her pardon, and after much pleading he was 


102 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


forgiven. Having gained his point, he — manlike — 
straightway repeated the offence, going even a step 
further, and snatching a kiss from her lips. Again he 
begged pardon, reminding her that he might never see 
her again and, in the subtle language of a lover, trem- 
bling on the verge of a declaration of his love, not 
daring to openly proclaim it, he prevailed over Ger- 
trude's affected indignation — although to him it was 
real enough — and, as a matter of course, was again for- 
given. He finally took leave in a rather joyful state 
of mind for an ardent young lover about to be forever 
separated from the woman he loved. 

The next day, while Gertrude was brooding in soli- 
tude, living over again and again the scene of yester- 
day, and wondering if he were yet far away, or would 
ever return, a letter arrived from him in which he 
wrote: ^^You have not been out of my mind one 
moment since we parted. I am miserable without 
you — am longing to see you again — am only happy 
when with you. I have given up going away, or even 
the thought of it, when it means so much to me, and I 
should be so miserable. So I shall remain, that I may 
be near you ; and shall live chiefly in the hope of see- 
ing you as often as you will permit me." 

Mr. Bryan soon detected a great change in his young 
wife. To him, she was at times irritable, and exacting ; 
again, more loving than ever, as though endeavoring to 
atone. She grew nervous and fretful ; her depression 
increased until, becoming really alarmed, he decided 
to travel, thinking a change of scene might be bene- 
ficial. 

Gertrude dear," he said one morning, how would 
you like a trip to Mexico for the winter ?" 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 103 

For a time she considered the matter in silence. It 
would mean a long separation from Channing. She 
knew her infatuation for him was becoming more and 
more intense every day, and her love for her fatherly 
husband was gradually melting. Yet she seemed un- 
able to resist Channing’s ardent attentions, although 
she was at last beginning to look upon her acquaint- 
ance with him as something more than a harmless 
flirtation — as she had frequently eased her mind by 
calling it — and liable to seriously compromise her if 
not discontinued ; besides she wanted to do right. 
Here was an opportunity offered her to escape from 
the influence by which she was held. Impulsively 
throwing all personal inclination aside, she answered : 

I should like it, Sidney, above all things ; a trip to 
Mexico would be delightful indeed.’' 

My darling,” he returned in a glad voice, ‘‘ I shall 
endeavor, I assure you, to make the trip a delightful 
one. I have some business matters to look after in 
Chicago, but after leaving there, the rest of the time 
shall be devoted entirely to your pleasure ; and I trust 
when we return you will be more like yourself. It 
has worried me of late, more than you know, to see 
you so changed.” 

Kissing her fondly, he started for his office down 
town. She watched him until he turned the corner of 
Fifty-seventh Street and Fifth Avenue, then going to 
her room and locking the door, burst into tears. 

O Bob !” she cried, I love you ! I love you ! I 
have tried not to, but I cannot help it ! and oh! I am 
so wretched, so guilty. Poor Sidney, how good and 
kind he is. He gratifies my every wish, surrounds me 
with every luxury, and yet. Heaven help me, I do not 


104 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

— I cannot love him as I ought. How cruelly I have 
deceived him ; poor old darling. I am unworthy of 
him, and I wish I were dead ! I shall be miserable 
the rest of my life, and I deserve to be.'' 

She sank into a chair, feeling terribly depressed, 
and heartily wishing Robert Channing had never 
crossed her path. 

‘‘What is done, cannot be undone," she thought ; 
“ and thank Heaven it's no worse ! He has kissed me 
many times, but he never shall again ! I loved Sidney 
until he came ; at least I thought I did, and was calmly 
happy. But now — alas ! the future seems a joyless 
one. Well, it's fate, I suppose, and I cannot avoid it. 
But I'll go to Mexico, and try to forget Bob; and 
when off there alone with Sidney, I’ll atone for the 
past, and make him happy at least, by leading him to 
believe that I am." 

That same afternoon young Channing called. At 
first Mrs. Bryan determined not to see him, but quickly 
changing her mind she decided that this once — only 
once, and the last time — could do no harm. So she 
descended to the drawing-room fully resolved that it 
should be their final interview. 

He was greatly surprised and disappointed to learn 
of the tour in prospect, and protested strongly, urging 
her in vain not to go. “ I gave up going away," he 
said, “ because I could not bear to leave you, and now 
you are going to leave me." 

A very affecting scene ensued ; and he had the 
pleasure of seeing her in tears because of their part- 
ing. 

The following week the Bryans started on their tour, 
stopping in Chicago for a few days. The second day 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? IO5 

after therr arrival, while Mr. Bryan was out attending 
to business, a bell boy of the hotel handed Mrs. Bryan 
a card with the inscription : Mr. Robert L. Channing.” 
Her cheeks paled, her heart beat rapidly ; for the 
moment she felt powerless. The fact of him boldly 
following her to Chicago was unnerving. 

The gentleman’s waiting in the reception parlor,” 
said the boy, observing her blank look. 

Very well,” she returned nervously. 

What shall I do T' she exclaimed as the boy with- 
drew. If I refuse to see him it might create com- 
ment in the hotel ; besides, he will be sure to wait 
until he sees me, or receives a message.” She felt 
really alarmed at his persistence. 

Suppose he were to follow us to Mexico ? What 
would I ever do ? What, indeed will be the outcome 
of all this ? Yes,” she decided, it is best to see him, 
and have the matter settled once and forever. I shall 
tell him that even our acquaintance must cease — that 
it is my wish. I have changed my mind scores of 
times through his persuasiveness, but all that is past. 
This time I shall not waver. Really the affair is be- 
coming serious. O Sidney ! why are you not here ? 
I need you, I need you.” 

With grave misgivings she went to the parlor, and 
to her intense relief. Bob Channing was the only occu- 
pant of the room. 

How did you ever find us?” she asked nervously, 
after a rather formal greeting. 

Easily enough,” he replied, not in the least discom- 
posed by her manner towards him. Knowing you 
were to stop in Chicago, I had no difficulty in locating 


io6 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


you when once here, and happily I made a good 
Yankee guess, and hit it right the first time.” 

Then becoming serious, he told her how dearly he 
loved her ; that life without her was not worth living, 
and that he could not, and would not exist apart from 
her. 

She listened to his vehement outburst in amaze- 
ment and alarm, then besought him to go, lest some- 
one would overhear him. But she might as well have 
talked to the wind. He had become desperate through 
fear of losing her. Soon footsteps approached, and a 
party of guests entered the room. 

Let me go to your private parlor,” he suggested in 
a low tone. Surely there can be no impropriety in 
that.” 

I dare not,” she protested faintly. Please go 
now !” 

But he had no such intention. So nervous as to 
scarcely be accountable for her actions, she turned to 
leave the room, and to leave him as well. 

He knew she loved him, but he was not quite sure 
of her yet ; and he meant to win her over, beyond a 
doubt, before leaving her again. 

‘^Yes, she loves me,” he quickly reasoned, and 
that is an important point gained. Love will work 
wonders, and overlook much. She will forgive a bold 
step, and — perhaps I’ll win her yet.” 

With all the san^;- froid of a man of the world, he 
calmly followed to her very door. Not daring to have 
a scene in the public corridor she said : 

You may come in for one moment — no more.” 

In her parlor he again pleaded eloquently for her 
entire affection, But she was too troubled, and appre- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


107 


hensive lest her husband should unexpectedly come 
in, to pay much heed. 

‘‘ Go, I beg of you !” she exclaimed. Mr. Bryan 
will find you here, and what explanation could I possi- 
bly make? Surely you do not wish to compromise 
me ?’' 

‘‘ Compromise you ? never was his earnest reply. 

Rather than that, I would not remain another mo- 
ment. But remember, dearest, I have come a long 
way to see you, and you are soon going far away. 
Don't be cruel, then, and force me to leave you so 
abruptly. Come with me for a drive, where we need 
not fear interruption." 

In her eagerness to have him go, she consented. 
He suggested that she should leave a note for Mr. 
Bryan, as that would explain her absence, and prevent 
any inquiries at the office in case he returned first. 
Acting on his suggestion, she wrote : 

‘‘ Dear Sidney: — I am going out for the afternoon, 
and may not return until late. Do not worry, as I 
shall be with a friend. Gertrude." 

Fifteen minutes later they were in a carriage whirl- 
ing away ; forgetful of time, forgetful of everything, 
in the joy of being together again. He was pleading 
with her to reconsider her cruel resolve, and not to 
cast him off. She was struggling to resist his hypnotic 
influence, and to stand firm in her intention to never 
see him again after returning from this drive. On and 
on they went until the city, left far behind, had disap- 
peared in a cloud of smoke. At last there was a jolt, 
a crash, and they were thrown forward from the seat. 


I08 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 

wheel’s off, mister!” shouted Cabby,” in a 
startled voice. He had been dozing, and felt some- 
what shaken. Lucky de hoss didn’t get skeered, an’ 
run away,” he continued, opening the door to see how 
his passengers were faring. She’s gentle as a lam’ 
fo’ shuah, else der’s no knowin’ whar we’d a been at 
now.” 

To her dismay Mrs. Bryan learned that they were 
eight miles or more from the city, and on a lonely road 
seldom frequented, and quite remote from conveyances 
of any description. Besides, the sun was setting ; soon 
it would be dark — terribly dark, with neither moon, 
electric light, or gas. 

Why did you bring us so far ? ” she sharply de- 
manded of the driver. 

“ De gemman’s orders was to drive on till he said 
’stop,’ an’ long’s he didn’t say stop, Ize done driv’ on,” 
returned Cabby in self-defense, his ebony face shining 
in prospect of the big fare forthcoming. 

What shall we do ? ” exclaimed Gertrude, in 
genuine distress. Can’t the wheel be fixed ? ” she 
asked suddenly. 

Not to-night, missus, ’cause de hub’s busted.” 

Gertrude groaned. “ Eight miles away,” she re- 
peated. Night coming on, and not a human being 
near. Why did you bring us on this lonely road ?” 
she again demanded. 

’Cause de gemman say to git away frum de noise, 
an’ de rumble, an’ drive whar der was none ; so I 
done driv’ out heah, ’cause dis am de mos’ quietes’ 
place I knows ob.” 

She walked a few paces away in disgust. Bob meekly 
following — glad in his heart that the accident had oc- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? IO9 

\curred. Nothing more opportune could have trans- 
pired,” he reasoned. Aloud he said : 

^ Don’t feel so, Gertrude darling. No one was to 
blame — accidents will happen, you know.” 

“ Bar’s a house ober dar,” called out the cabman, 
pointing to a farm house not far away. Mos’ likely 
you ken stay dar till I done git fixed up.” 

“A good idea,” said Channing. We’ll test the 
Illinois’ hospitality. You wait here, dear,” he said to 
Gertrude, while I go and see what the prospects are 
. for some supper, and a night’s lodging if necessary.” 
Fearing she would protest he hurried away. 

Do try,” she called out, to get a carriage, that 
we may return to-night.” 

At the farm house, a tall gaunt woman answered 
his knock, to whom he made known his wants. 

Wall,” she said, “ ye can’t git back to the city to- 
night, ’cause I ain’t got no wagin, an’ the only horse I 
keeps happens to be a cow. I’m a widder, an’ lives 
here all alone, an’ ain’t got no men folks of no kind. I 
makes my own garden, an’ weeds it, an’ digs it too, an 
does all the chores. When Caleb, my man, was livin’ 
we kept a horse an’ wagin ; but when the Lord took 
him I sold ’em off.” 

Bob kept quiet until this voluble creature stopped 
to take breath, then said : ‘‘ Can you give us some 
supper, madame ?” 

‘^Wall, it’s sorter sudden,” she returned, “ an’ I ain’t 
noways prepared fur company. Things is run sorter low, 
’cause to-morrow’s bakin’ day. I et up the last piece o’ 
pie fur breakfast this mornin’ an’ the last bit o’ sweet 
cake fur dinner this noon ; but there’s a bin o’ potaters, 
an’ a half bar’l o’ pork down cellar. An’ I’ve got 


no 


WHAT WOULD THU WORLD THINK ? 


most ahull loaf o’ bread, an' a churnin' o' fresh butter, 
an' a bowl o’ apple-sass, an' — O yes ! a lot o' fresh laid 
eggs. So 'f you think ye kin manage on that, why, yer 
welcome. 

Bob Channing thought they could manage very 
nicely. Then rather hesitatingly, and with a look over 
his shoulder to see that Gertrude was not within hear- 
ing, he said : 

“ I don’t suppose we can get back to-night, and— 
would it be convenient for you to accommodate my 
wife and me until morning ?” 

‘‘So fur's the sleepin' goes,” she returned briskly, 
“it's easier'n the eatin*, fur I’ve got plenty o' rooms, 
an’ two spare beds. Good ones too, I made the ticks 
myself, an' stuffed 'em with live geese feathers of our 
own raisin'. Caleb an' me used to keep geese, but 
'twas so much trouble to look after ’em, after Caleb, 
was took, an' do the pickin' of ’em that I've let 'em all 
dwindle out. 

Bob walked slowly back, scarcely knowing how to 
inform Gertrude of what he had done. 

“ Have they a carriage ? Can we go back to-night ?” 
she asked eagerly as he approached. 

“ No, dearest ; they have no carriage, and the ‘ they,' 
is but a lonely female, who has lived in single blessed- 
ness ever since her man, Caleb, was ‘ took.' But we 
can have a supper of salt pork and potatoes, and bread 
and apples-'sass,' and — we can be accommodated until 
morning.” 

Gertrude was terribly distressed ; not because of the 
plebian supper in prospect, but because of the explan- 
ation she must make to her trusting husband in the 
morning. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


1 1 I 


Channing held a hurried consultation with the 
driver, after which the latter unharnessed the horse, 
and mounting it, started back toward the city, leaving 
the broken down carriage by the wayside. 


CHAPTER X. 

Robert and Gertrude walked in silence to the farm 
house, being too preoccupied with their own personal 
difficulties to indulge in conversation. As they opened 
the gate latch Mrs. Carter, their hostess, appeared in 
the doorway. 

** Walk right in an* make yourselves to home,** she 
said, an* I’ll have supper ready in a jiffy. How 
d’ye want yer eggs — biled er fried, er poached, er 
scrambled ?’* 

Gertrude had no choice. Give ’em to us ’biled, 
an* scrambled,” said Robert, as seriously as a judge. 

That is, if it’s not too much trouble.” 

Laws no ! ’taint no trouble whatever to bile eggs, 
nor to scramble ’em neither. So jest excuse me fur a 
spell, while I put ’em on, an* git the table sot.” 

Gertrude had smiled for the first time since the ac- 
cident. Robert took courage, and directly they were 
alone he said : 

Now, dearest, please do not be angry with me 
when I confess to you what I have done. Promise 
that you will not.” 

What is it ?” she asked in a faint voice. 

‘‘Well, you know some country people have very 
queer notions,” he began apologetically, “ and fearing 


I 12 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


this woman — a queer specimen, by the way — would 
not permit us to remain otherwise, I told her that you 
were my wife, and now, darling, she must not suspect 
differently.’* 

Mrs. Bryan grew pale. Oh, Robert Channing !” 
she exclaimed, how could you do it. My God ! to 
w^hat deception have you brought me ? I will not per- 
mit it !” she suddenly cried. I will tell her the truth 
and tell her that you were merely joking.” 

She rose to carry out the threat, but he caught her 
within his arms. 

My love,” he said reproachfully, you must do 
nothing of the sort — surely you can trust me. I only 
wish it were true — that you were in reality my wife. 
And why are you not, Gertrude ? I love you as man 
never loved before. Let me from this hour call you 
my own. Will you, Gertrude darling ?” 

His words were uttered with a force which almost 
shattered her intention to resist him. He kissed her 
repeatedly as she struggled to free herself from his 
embrace. 

‘‘You must not talk to me like that,” she cried ex- 
citedly. “ I will not listen ! I have one of the best 
husbands on earth, and I will not be unfaithful to him, 
no, not even for you !” Then she burst into tears. 

He did not like to see her so distressed, yet he felt 
that the fact of her emotional nature being aroused 
was another point scored in his favor. A bitter defi- 
ant woman is difficult to manage, but a woman in re- 
pentant tears is easily won. He began to feel very 
sure of her. “I love her,” he mused, trying to ease 
his conscience, ‘-and she loves me. She must be 
mine ; she shall be rnine !” The thought of Mr. Bryan, 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? II3 

the wronged husband, did not trouble him particularly. 
His plans were carefully laid, and if successfully 
carried out, he felt that all would soon be well. 

Gertrude,’’ he said tenderly, please don’t cry any 
more. You are nervous and worried, but you need 
not be. I will see you safely through this unfortunate 
affair. Come now, dearest, dry your eyes. Mrs. 
Carter will wonder at your grief. After supper we 
will go to a room by ourselves, and I will tell you of a 
plan I have for the future.” 

Directly after supper Channing said to his hostess : 

My wife is very tired, Mrs. Carter, and if you will 
kindly show her to a room we will not trouble you any 
more to-night.” 

‘‘Which room d’ye want?” she asked bluntly. 
“ One spare room’s down stairs, an’ t’other one’s up 
stairs next to mine, you ken take yer pick.” 

“I think the one down here will be preferable,” he 
returned. “We are both quite fatigued, and it will 
save my wife from climbing the stairs.” 

“Then Mrs. Bryan rose, and speaking very calmly 
said : “ As you are so tired. Bob, and prefer a room 
down stairs you shall have it. As for myself, I prefer 
to sleep up stairs. Now Mrs. Carter, I am ready if 
you will kindly show me up. Good night Robert, and 
pleasant dreams.” 

Without another word she followed Mrs. Carter up 
the stairs. Robert looked longingly after her, speech- 
less with surprise and disappointment at her abrupt 
desertion. He felt chagrined too, and not quite so 
sure of her as he had been a short time before ; but 
that fact only increased his ardor. 

The next morning Cabby returned for them, and 


1 14 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

they started back at a rapid pace. For a time Robert 
was silent and moody. He felt rather crestfallen over 
the failure of his scheming. He had earnestly hoped 
— even believed — that before the return trip, Ger- 
trude would have been so completely his own that will- 
ingly, eagerly, she would turn to him for life. But he 
keenly realized his mistake. She was not his, nor was 
she likely to be, unless he made some sudden and 
fortunate move. She was speeding back to her doting 
husband with all possible haste, and if she escaped him 
now, he knew she would be lost to him forever ; that 
his influence would be at an end ; — her present infatu- 
ation for him would gradually turn to contempt. And 
if she made a full confession to her husband it prob- 
ably would be worth his life to attempt to see her 
again. The thought was humiliating, galling, and not 
to be endured. 

Gertrude was pale and haggard, having passed a 
sleepless night and taken no food. O Robert !’' she 
exclaimed suddenly, What explanation can I possi- 
bly make ? Oh ! this is terrible, terrible ! Advise 
me ; do.’* 

My darling,” he replied quickly, my advice is to 
make no explanation whatever, other than a written 
one ; and that only when you are far away, and safe 
with me. You must not see Mr. Bryan at present ; it 
would never do. He would repudiate you, and kill 
me. My love, there’s no use in denying the fact : you 
belong to me — it’s the destiny of both of us.” 

In vain she protested and argued ; his answers were 
ready, plausible, full of love, and affectionate pleading. 
Once again she was under his magnetic influence. She 
tried to resist, but his will was stronger than hers. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? II5 

She became helpless in his hands, passive to his 
caresses, and at last weakly consented to unite her 
destiny with his. Fearing that she might alter her 
mind as soon as she had reconsidered the step, he 
drove rapidly to the railway station, bought tickets 
for a city in the far west, and hurried her into a com- 
partment. 

Now, my darling, you had better write a few lines 
to Mr. Bryan,’' he advised. This train does not 
start for thirty minutes. You have ample time, and 
it will end his suspense as to your whereabouts, and 
prevent him from making an outcry.” 

Her face paled. She rose as though to turn back, 
but he was ready for an emergency. 

Here is paper and pencil,” he said quickly. ‘‘ Now 
hurry, dearest, as I wish to take the note out and post 
it myself.” 

Mechanically she sat down and wrote : 

“ Dear Sidney : — Forgive me and forget me. I am 
leaving you forever. Do not grieve, for I am unworthy 
of your grief or affection. I will write later, explain- 
ing all. 

Your faithless wife, 

Gertrude.” 

While Robert was out posting the letter she discov- 
ered in her pocket-book the check for one of her 
trunks, which on her arrival in Chicago had been trans- 
ferred and stored in the baggage room to wait until 
they resumed their journey. The trunk was a large 
one, filled with valuable clothing, among which were 
the twenty-two button gloves, the costly fan, the satin 


Il6 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

slippers and silk stockings, which years later appeared 
so condemning in the judgment of some of the Clydes- 
ville folk. Robert considered it a fortunate coincid- 
ence, and handing the check to the porter, bade him 
hurry and see that the trunk was checked for that 
train. 

For awhile Gertrude sat silent and pensive. Then 
she suddenly rose, her face white and resolute. 

“ Robert,'' she said in a low firm voice, I cannot 
go ! The thought comes over me with a death-like 
chill. My husband planned this trip solely for my 
pleasure, and I am not heartless enough to leave him. 
I am going back ! He will listen to me, and believe 
me ; he is so kind, so " 

‘‘ My darling," interrupted Robert, clasping her 
hand, you certainly do not love me, or you would 
not wish to break my heart." 

“ Love you !" she repeated ‘‘ Heaven knows I wish 
I did not. I love you too well ; but I cannot wreck 
his life. He loves me too, and my duty is to him. I 
have already wronged him almost beyond reparation, 
but I have reached the end. I am awaking ; and 
thank Heaven I can return to him not entirely dis- 
honored." 

She opened the door, and stepped out into the car ; 
but at that moment the train began to move away. 

Oh God !" she cried. I am lost !" Re-entering 
the compartment she sank into a seat, and burst into 
violent weeping. 

But Robert had won. She could not return now — 
it was for ever too late. Her note would reach Mr. 
Bryan before she could, and that could never be satis- 
factorily explained. Truly Satan helps his own. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


II7 


CHAPTER XI. 

When Mr. Bryan received his wife's note he was 
like one paralyzed. All night long he had wondered 
and conjectured over her absence and puzzled his 
brain concerning the friend whom she had referred to. 
Why she had left him for all time, of her own accord, 
he could not comprehend. He had indulged her every 
wish ; had planned this trip to Mexico expressly for 
her pleasure, and he thought he possessed her entire 
affection. Hour after hour he sat in a chair immova- 
ble, then quietly going to the office, paid his bill, gave 
up the rooms, and removed to other quarters where 
her absence would excite no comment, and there 
awaited the letter she had promised to write. No one 
suspected his anguish, and no one ever knew one word 
of the cruel affair. 

A few weeks later the expected letter came, it hav- 
ing been sent to his New York address, and there re- 
mailed to Chicago, where it finally reached him. 
Then he knew the worst and gave her up. Broken- 
hearted, unfitted for business, or to return home and 
have his humiliation made known, he went on to 
Mexico as previously arranged, where he remained 
two years. 

In the meantime rumors reached his friends at 
home that Mrs. Bryan had died during their travels. 
Naturally enough they accepted the rumor, wrote him 
letters of condolence and sympathy, and for a time 
spoke of her regretfully. Poor dear Mrs. Bryan, 
what a pity ! So young — so charming ; and to have 


Il8 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

died \vay off there in Mexico/' Then she was for- 
gotten. 

When Mr. Bryan returned, so changed and sad- 
dened, people felt disinclined to mention the subject 
of his affliction, and whenever one did so, he begged 
to be excused from speaking of the sad affair ; and 
there the matter ended. 

Years passed, and not one word had he heard from 
Gertrude. She had completely dropped out of his 
life, until the morning when little Helena Channing 
came to him, bringing the jewel case, and her mother’s 
letter. He had never ceased to love Gertrude, and 
her unexpected death was a severe blow. Again he 
lived through the past, thinking it all over in detail, 
quite forgetting the child so anxiously awaiting his 
return. 

“ My God !” he cried. Can it be true ? Even to this 
day it seems at times as if it were a horrible dream. 
O Gertrude, my lost love ! is this indeed the end — 
the bitter end ? Well,” he mused, I’ve always been 
charitable towards her, and now I’m thankful that 
I’ve been so. Often I’ve thought that perhaps I was 
unsuited to her ; I was neither young nor handsome — 
he was both. But I fear she learned that youth and 
good looks are not everything to be desired. Poor 
girl, she brought desolation to herself as well as to 
me.” 

Suddenly he remembered the child entrusted to his 
care — the poor little innocent girl, whose destiny de- 
pended on his decision concerning her. 

Robert Channing’s child,” he muttered. The 
man, who like a thief, robbed me of all earth held 
dear.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


II9 


For a moment a bitter feeling of resentment pos- 
sessed him. ‘^What would the world think?” he ques- 
tioned. How could I escape its ridicule ; what ex- 
planation could I ever make that would not be humili- 
ating ? There is nothing that would excuse me for 
adopting the child of an unfaithful wife, no matter 
how she might have been influenced by the villain 
who betrayed her. I cannot do it. It is impossible.’' 

Again he opened Gertrude’s letter and read : Try, 
Sidney, to forget that she is my child — or his. Only 
think of her as a poor friendless orphan. . . . When 
I think of your past kindness, I am sure you will not 
disregard my last request.” 

What a monstrous proposition,” he exclaimed ve- 
hemently ; ^‘and it is her last request! O Gertrude ! 
Gertrude ! remorse must have turned your brain or 
you would never have asked me to do* this. Have I 
not suffered enough already ? Are you not satisfied 
with ruining my life that you should thrust this un- 
welcome task upon me, only to be an aggravation to 
my grief ? O Gertrude ! why did you leave me ?” 

For the first time since his wife deserted him Mr. 
Bryan broke down, and for a few moments his great 
sorrow overcame him. But had those tears been shed 
long ago, they would have relieved his heavy heart of 
much of its burden, and brought him a resignation 
that he could not cultivate. 

He had often thought of his wife and of the possi- 
bility of sometime hearing from her, and had decided 
that if she were in want and appealed to him, her ap- 
peal would not be in vain. But he had not expected 
a letter from the grave, nor an appeal for protection 
to the offspring of her betrayer. For Channing he 


120 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


had a bitter hatred, intensified as the years passed and 
as he found excuses for his wife’s infatuation for him. 
He might have forgiven her, but it would have been 
a dangerous thing for Channing to have crossed his 
path. He would have done anything for Gertrude, 
and ignored the criticism of his friends had it been for 
herself alone ; but the thought of taking Robert Chan- 
ning’s child into his home was galling. And yet he 
wavered. 

What would the world think ?” he again muttered, 
were I to adopt her and her parentage ever be- 
came known? I cannot decide so soon,” he thought; 

I must consider the matter. In the meantime she 
shall be cared for ; I’d do that much for a stray dog 
or cat.” 

Helena’s anxious little face brightened when he re- 
entered the room ; but it would have been more 
anxious had she known of the bitter memories she had 
resurrected, and how her fate hung in the balance. As 
he sat down she handed him the other letter — the one 
addressed to herself. After carefully reading it 
through he asked how she had found him, and why she 
had come to him so long before the time arranged. 

His manner inspired her with confidence, and in her 
own quaint way she told him her story, beginning with 
her mother’s death. She explained Mr. Marvin’s 
refusing to take her ; her life at Mrs. Hopdyke’s, and her 
running away ; her meeting with the book agent, and 
his taking her to his home ; and finally how Mrs. 
Ruden’s curiosity to know the contents of the jewel 
case had resulted in her being sent to him. 

Mr. Bryan asked many questions, to which be re- 
ceived straightforward, intelligent answers. Her story 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


121 


had been pathetic as well as amusing, and several 
times he had said : ^‘poor child/’ She even told him 
of her adventure with Moll de rat,” and how she was 
befriended and kept out of a place worse than jail by 
Mikey de chump.” 

Mr. Bryan was horrified on learning to what dan- 
gers she had been exposed ; and when she related her 
imprisonment in Trinity Church, and how she had 
asked the Lord to make him come back from Phila- 
delphia that day, he turned his face aside that she 
might not see his emotion. 

You liked my mamma very much, didn’t you ?” she 
asked innocently. 

Yes ; very much.” 

I hope you’ll like me too, and let me live with you. 
I — I haven’t any other friend, nor any other place to 
live.” 

She paused, looked at him wistfully, then resumed : 
“ Mamma wanted me to live with you, I know ; but 
when she wrote the letter *she didn’t want me to come 
so soon, for fear I would bother you. But Mrs. Ruden 
said it was a ^ fatality,’ and that I’d have to come now; 
but I’ll try not to bother you any.” 

“ I hardly think, little girl, that you would be con- 
tent to live with an old man like me,” said Mr. Bryan, 
‘‘ I have no little girls or boys for you to play with. 
You would be quite alone, and rather lonely, I fear.” 

“ O no, sir ! I wouldn’t mind not having anyone to 
play with. I never played with any little girls in my 
life, and only with one boy. I always stayed home 
with mamma, and no little girls ever came to our house, 
so I wouldn’t mind being alone, and — and ” 


I 22 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


Well, what is it? Don’t be afraid to speak out,’* 
he said kindly. 

wanted to tell you,” she began hesitatingly, ‘‘that 
mamma came to me last night, and told me that you 
would take me — and, that I would learn to love you 
very dearly, and ” 

“ What are you telling me, child ?” he interrupted 
quickly. 

“ About mamma coming to me,” she replied. “ It 
was in the night when I was in the church ; but I sup- 
pose it was a dream, because when I woke up I found 
I’d been asleep.” 

“ What else did she tell you ?” he asked with as 
much interest as if he thought it all real. 

“ She said she had tried to come to you, but she 
couldn’t make you see her, nor hear her, so she wanted 
me to tell you that ” 

“ That what ?” he asked eagerly. 

“ That’s all I can tell, Mr. Bryan,” said the child re- 
gretfully. “ When mamma got that far she stopped, 
and turned into a cloud, and in a minute she was all 
gone.” 

Mr. Bryan gazed searchingly into her earnest, truth- 
ful face a moment, then summoning a clerk, gave some 
directions for the day, after which he left the office 
with Helena, and proceeded to his home in West Fifty- 
seventh Street. 

The splendor there bewildered her. Never had she 
imagined anything so beautiful. The rich carpets and 
rugs, the furniture and paintings were to her a marvel. 
Taking her directly to the library — his favorite re- 
treat — Mr. Bryan summoned his housekeeper, and ac- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 123 

quainted her with the fact that Helena would, for a 
time at least, become a member of the household. 

Mrs. Winter was not at all pleased — as her expres- 
sion clearly showed. Mr. Bryan explained that the 
child was the orphan of a very dear friend of his, and 
that he proposed to look after her. 

Mrs. Winter remarked that the unexpected advent 
of a child into the family would greatly increase her 
cares, and that she had not anticipated anything of 
the kind when she engaged to come. 

Helena, always quick of comprehension and ex- 
tremely sensitive, flushed with embarrassment, but in 
an eager tone she exclaimed : 

Please don’t think I’ll make you any extra work, 
for I can help a lot. I’ll wash all the dishes, and peel 
the potatoes, and run errands ; and when all the work 
is done I’ll knit your stockings.” 

Mr. Bryan smiled, evidently amused ; but Mrs. 
Winter looked upon her with contempt, and her man- 
ner plainly indicated that Mr. Bryan’s ‘‘very dear 
friend ” must have been an exceedingly poor, and ple- 
beian individual. 

After luncheon Mr. Bryan returned to his office, 
having handed his little charge over to the tender mer- 
cies of the housekeeper, with the request that she 
make her as comfortable as possible. 

Helena’s first day in her new home dragged wearily 
enough. After admiring the different articles of fur- 
niture she wandered aimlessly about the drawing-room, 
scarcely daring to breathe, much less touch anything 
or ask any questions ; for Mrs. Winter — looking more 
wintry than her name — continually appeared with 
disapproval in her eyes. “ Mind you don’t meddle 


124 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


with things,” she kept saying ; for if I catch you at it, 
you’ll have to go into the kitchen.” Once the child 
ventured to the library, and stood admiring the hand- 
somely bound volumes, when Mrs. Winter suddenly 
surprised her. 

Please may I take one of the books and see if I 
can find some pictures?” she asked. 

‘^No, you may not!” was the sharp answer. 

You’re not even to touch the books, or anything else ; 
and if you want to live here, you must learn to leave 
things alone.” 

I haven’t touched anything yet,” returned Helena, 

and I didn’t intend to, either; I only asked if I 
might.” 

‘‘Well, just you put your hands behind your back, and 
keep them there while you’re in this room, and then 
you won’t forget.” 

Rather than stand long in that position, the child 
soon returned to the drawing-room, where all the long 
afternoon she stood by the window looking into the 
street, feeling lonely and unwelcome. She little sus- 
pected that twelve years before, her mother had 
reigned supreme in that house, where she scarcely 
dared to tread. At an early hour Mrs. Winter gave 
her a light supper, then she was assigned to a back 
hall room on the third floor, almost destitute of furni- 
ture, it having been used principally for storage. 

“Please may I wait up till Mr. Bryan comes?” she 
asked imploringly. 

“ No, you may not 1 Little girls should go to bed 
early.” 

“But,” protested Helena, “I’ve always sat up late, 
and ” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


125 


It's quite evident that you have not been properly 
reared," interrupted Mrs. Winter. But a new leaf’s 
going to be turned. . Besides, Mr. Bryan will not want 
to be bothered with you. He takes a late dinner, and 
then wants to be alone." 

So Helena was sent to bed a very disappointed lit- 
tle girl. But ere long she nestled closer under the 
bedclothes ; her eyes closed, and a smile rested on her 
lips as she softly whispered ; Dear mamma, dear 
Billy," and then her disappointment was forgotten. 

Mr. Bryan was not surprised because of the child’s 
absence that evening, knowing her to be tired out 
after her adventures; but the second night he felt dis- 
appointed in not seeing her, and the third night, as 
she was still invisible, he summoned Mrs. Winter and 
inquired for her. 

She’s in bed and asleep, sir," was the prompt re- 
ply.” 

Does she go to bed so early every night of her own 
accord ?" he asked. 

The woman hesitated, not daring to say ^‘yes,’’ for 
fear of being betrayed later on. 

Well, not exactly of her own accord," she replied ; 
“but I don’t believe in children’s sitting up late." 

“Well, be kind enough to see that she is up to- 
morrow evening when I come home," he returned 
briefly. 

The next evening on ascending the steps, he saw an 
eager little face watching from the window, and a mo- 
ment later, before he could insert his key in the latch, 
the door was opened from the inside, and a little hand 
was joyously thrust into his own. 


126 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


Tm so glad !” the child exclaimed. I most 
thought Vd never see you again.’' 

With her hand still in his he proceeded to the 
library, and taking her on his knee, said : 

Now tell me, Helena, where you have kept yourself 
all this time. You have been here four days, and this 
is the first glimpse I’ve had of you since the day you 
came.” 

Instinctively the child looked toward the door which 
stood ajar, then in a low voice said : 

Mrs. Winter makes me go to bed before dark, and 
she won’t let me come down in the morning until after 
you are gone.” 

Mr. Bryan made no reply, and the child resumed : 

She says it’s because you don’t want me around for 
fear I’d bother you, but I wouldn’t. I’d be very good 
if she would only let me stay up.” 

Mr. Bryan smiled at her earnestness, and somewhat 
encouraged, she continued confidentially : I guess 
she don’t want me to see you, for she acted mad be- 
cause I said I liked you, and I hoped you’d let me 
stay.” 

What did she say ?” Mr. Bryan asked. 

O, she didn’t say much — she only looked it. And,” 
she added sagely, I guess she don’t want you to like 
me either, for fear you’ll let me live here. I wonder 
why she don’t want me — there’s lots and lots of 
room.” 

“You shall have dinner with me to-night,” said Mr. 
Bryan pleasantly, “ and sit up until you are sleepy. 
Will that please you ?” 

“ O yes, sir,” and she clapped her little hands glee- 
fully. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 1 27 

To the servants in attendance during the dinner, 
Helena was something of a mystery. Through the 
housekeeper they had heard of her associations with 
dish-washing, potato peeling, and the like ; and how a 
child brought up in that sphere could conduct herself 
so gracefully at the table, was more than they could ac- 
count for. 

She hacts like she b’longed to the quality,’' said 
Thomas, the English butler, to Kate, an upstairs girl. 

She ’andles ’er knife an’ fork an’ spoon, like the best 
of ’em, an’ uses ’er napkin like she’d halwaysbeen used 
to one ; but I’m blest if I know where she got onto it 
all, if ’er mother done scrubbin’.’ 

Thomas, the old butler, had been in the Bryan es- 
tablishment for fifteen years, and many a time had 
waited upon Helena’s mother. But Gertrude’s secret 
was safe — never had Robert Channing’s name been as- 
sociated with her. 

Although Helena felt timid in Mrs. Winter’s pres- 
ence, she did not feel in the least so with Mr. Bryan, 
and for the first time since her advent into the house 
she felt free from constraint. After dinner she was 
permitted to sit and chatter to him until her lids grew 
heavy. 

‘‘Now, little one,” he said, “you had better say 
‘ good night;’ but you may get up as early as you like, 
and take breakfast with me.” 

“ I’m so glad you like me !” she exclaimed impul- 
sively; then putting up her lips to be kissed, she 
added : “ Mamma always kissed me ‘ good night,’ but 
nobody has kissed me since she died, except Mrs. 
Marvin. But you’ll kiss me ; won’t you T' 


128 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


He returned the child’s caress with a fatherly air, 
then inquired where she slept. 

Way up stairs,” she answered. 

Have you a pretty room ?” he asked. 

She hesitated, not wishing to complain, and scarcely 
knowing how to frame her answer. 

It’s pretty enough,” she returned after a moment’s 
meditation ; ‘‘ but of course it’s not as pretty as Mrs. 
Winter’s room, or Kate’s, or Maggie’s. 

Mr. Bryan rose, determined to see for himself, and 
taking her hand followed her up three flights, to her 
little cheerless room. A bed had been improvised by 
placing a mattress across two trunks, a wash bowl 
stood on a chair, the only one in the room. Mr. 
Bryan’s face showed severe displeasure. 

She probably did not think I would take particular 
interest in the child,” he thought, '‘and did not sus- 
pect that I would ever know of her treatment ; but 
this state of things will never do. How any woman 
can treat a motherless child like this, is more than I 
can understand. She’s the kind of person who would 
heartlessly turn her cat and dog out of doors, or con- 
sign them to a damp cellar, then retire to her own 
warm bed with (possibly) thanks to the Creator on 
her lips for what He had done for lier^ but entirely in- 
different to the suffering she may have inflicted on 
others. There are too many ' Mrs. Winters ’ in the 
world, selfish and cruel ; who go to church with a 
sanctity in their very walk, expressive of their piety, 
to 'praise God from whom all blessings flow,’ yet re- 
turn home entirely unconscious of any obligation to 
extend a part of the blessings they receive to the poor 
creatures who may be in their power ; and with no 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? I29 

thought, perhaps, that their dependent position should 
call for sympathy and kindness. Such people, Rus- 
kin says, ‘ lack imagination.’ They also lack sentiment 
and fine-feeling. And Burns’ ‘ man’s inhumanity to 
man makes countless thousands mourn,’ would have 
been an inexpressive thought if we would only do 
unto others as we would be done by.” 

Little Helena had that night found her way irrevoc- 
ably to Mr. Bryan’s kind and generous heart. 

My poor Gertrude’s child,” he mused while des- 
cending the stairs. To think of her being left like 
this. She should have been my child, but fate decreed 
otherwise. But from this hour she shall be provided 
for as if she were my own, regardless of what the world 
would think even though the world ever knew.” 


CHAPTER XH. 

Returning to the library Mr. Bryan summoned 
his housekeeper. That shrewd woman quickly de- 
tected his displeasure, rightly surmised the cause, and 
at once was on the defensive. 

I hope nothing is wrong, sir,” she began humbly. 

I gave special orders for the dinner, and ” 

The dinner was all right, Mrs. Winter ; that is not 
what I wish to speak about.” 

“ I’m sure I hope everything else is all right too ; 
but really sir, I’m so nervous since that child came, 
that Tm hardly accountable for what I do, or what I 
don’t do. You see, sir, I’m not accustomed to chil- 


130 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

dren, and — well, they'^re very annoying, to say the 
least/' 

In what way has Helena annoyed you, Mrs. 
Winter?” 

Well, sir, she — er — that is — she's not exactly done 
anything as yet that I can name; but I'm in constant 
fear that she will, so it amounts to the same. Of 
course, sir,” she proceeded with growing vehemence. 
I'm held responsible for everything ; but never, since 
I was in charge of this house has anything gone wrong, 
which I’m happy to say, but which is more than I can 
promise for the future with a strange child around. 
Why, sir, every time she goes into the drawing-room 
I’m that nervous I can hardly stand, for fear she’ll 
upset something, or turn things topsy-turvy ; and 
whenever she comes in here. I’m on guard every 
minute for fear she ’ll handle your books. Why, sir, 
almost the first thing she done when she came here 
was to ask if she could look 'em over to see if she 
could find some pictures. But you may believe me, 
sir, I didn’t even let her touch ’em. So you see, sir, 
that with watching her all day long, it’s no wonder 
that I’m upset and half distracted, and that the house 
and the dinner all goes to sixes and sevens ; for I do 
assure you, sir, she's a great responsibility.” 

I think, Mrs. Winter, that you borrow a great 
deal of unnecessary trouble,” said Mr. Bryan dryly, 
as soon as the woman gave him an opportunity to 
speak. Helena seems to me to be quite a little 
lady, and ” 

She’s only nine, sir ; she told me so herself.” 

In years, yes ; but she’s twice that age in experi- 
ence and good sense. Now, Mrs. Winter, I wish to 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? I31 

consult with you concerning her wardrobe. She was 
sent to me without an extra stitch of clothing, and I 
wish you would see at once that she has some new 
dresses, and in fact everything needful.” 

An angry light came to the woman’s eyes. Really, 
Mr. Bryan,” she said, I don’t see how, with all my 
other cares I can superintend the outfit of a wholly 
destitute child. She’ll require a great many things, 
sir, and a great deal of sewing, and making, and — of 
course ” 

There are many dressmakers and seamstresses in 
town,” he interrupted with visible impatience, ‘‘who 
would gladly do all that Helena will require to have 
done ; and if you find her such an extra care, get an- 
other servant especially for her. I can say no more.” 

Mrs. Winter felt spiteful, and could not refrain 
from muttering something about “an extra servant 
just to wait upon a scrubwoman’s child.” But she 
quickly saw her mistake. Mr. Bryan grew pale with 
anger. 

“ What do you mean ?” he demanded. “ Who has 
dared to insinuate that her mother was a scrub- 
woman ?” 

The housekeeper was thoroughly frightened. Never 
before had she seen Mr. Bryan so angry ; and for the 
first time she feared her month’s notice. 

“ I’m sure I meant no harm, sir,” she began very 
humbly ; “ but the child herself said she had been 
brought up to help scrub and ” 

“You are wrongly impressed, Mrs. Winter. Since 
Helena’s mother died she has lived with a farmer’s 
wife, who made her do drudgery of a kind quite un- 
fitted to her. But her parents were old friends of 


132 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


mine, and henceforth she shall live here ; and I want 
her to be looked upon and treated as though she 
were my own daughter. That reminds me ; I am 
greatly surprised at the room you have given her. 
She may sleep there to-night, but to-morrow there 
must be a decided change.’' 

The following day being Saturday, Mr. Bryan re- 
turned home early, and devoted the afternoon to en- 
tertaining his little charge, whom he found very 
original and amusing, and with decided opinions and 
preferences of her own. On being asked which of the 
unoccupied rooms in the house she considered the 
prettiest and would prefer for her own, she promptly re- 
plied : The one all furnished in pale blue and pink.” 

Mr. Bryan looked grave. The room in pale blue 
and pink was Gertrude’s, and had remained undis- 
turbed since she left it twelve years before. 

But why should it longer remain unused ?” he 
thought. Who has a better right to occupy it than 
her own child ?” 

So Helena left her little bed on the trunks and was 
assigned to the pleasantest room in the house — the 
one in which her mother had struggled with her better 
self, and finally resolved to go with her husband to 
Mexico, and not to see Bob Channing again. 

Mrs. Winter was disgusted at the change; the 
other servants amazed. Even old Thomas, the white- 
haired butler shook his head, not only disapprovingly 
but apprehensively. I wouldn’t ’ave believed it,” 
he said solemnly. ‘^To think that ’e’d allow anybody 
whomsoever to ’ave that room, of hall others, that the 
deceased Mrs. Bryan ’erself used to hoccupy.” 

‘‘ Mr. Bryan is certainly approaching his dotage,” re- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


133 


turned Mrs. Winter. Surely there’s no fool like an 
old fool, and particularly when the old fool is a man, 
and there’s a female in the case, no matter if she is 
only a stray waif. I wonder,” she proceeded indig- 
nantly, what move he’ll make next ? I expect when 
she’s a little older he’ll be giving her the reins entirely, 
and let her rule the house. Well, there’s one thing 
sure, and that is : she won’t ever rule over me — a chit 
like her, sent here like she dropped down from the 
skies, or more likely popped up from the lower re- 
gions.” 

During the afternoon Mr. Bryan took Helena to see 
the animals in Central Park, and her admiration and 
delight knew no bounds. On being told that she 
could visit them whenever she liked, it seemed to her 
that she had been transported into paradise. 

O, if Billy could only come and see them too,” 
she thought, how happy I’d be.” 

They went to see the elephants last, and while curi- 
ously watching the big clumsy fellows she suddenly 
exclaimed : Martha Hopdyke may keep my animal 
book now. These live animals are a great deal better 
than her dead ones.” 

Did the pictures in your book represent dead 
animals ?” asked Mr. Bryan in surprise. 

No sir, not exactly, that is the pictures didn’t 
mean for the animals to be dead, but — but they were 
not alive, you know, so they must have been dead.” 

“ A very logical conclusion,” was the smiling reply. 

‘‘ What does a ^ logical conclusion ’ mean ? Mr. 
Bryan ?” 

It means, well — in this case you say that the 


134 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


animals in the book were not alive, so concluded they 
were dead/' 

Was it true then ? Were they dead ?" 

“ No, they were live animals." 

Then I don't see," she replied wonderingly, 
how " 

How what ?" 

Well, how what I said was a ‘ logical conclusion !" 

You are like the little boy in the Sunday school," 
said Mr. Bryan, evidently amused. 

What did he do?" asked Helena. 

‘^He asked a great many questions, the same as you 
do, and sometimes questions that his teacher could 
not answer." 

‘‘ Were you the little boy ?" 

0 no, not I ; it was another little boy." 

What did the teacher do with him ?" 

1 don't know I'm sure ; I left before the Sunday 
school was out that day." 

Helena's enthusiasm over the animals pleased Mr. 
Bryan very much. He was beginning to think her an 
exceedingly interesting and lovable little girl, whom 
he was growing very fond of, and who brightened his 
home as it had not been brightened since Gertrude 
deserted him ; and he was gradually forgetting that she 
was Robert Channing’s child. 

O Mr. Bryan," she suddenly cried, do see those 
beautiful horses coming, all in gold harnesses." 

A well appointed victoria was approaching, drawn 
by two magnificent bays. 

‘‘ What made those horses have such short tails ?" 
she asked wonderingly as the victoria passed by. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 1 35 

Because they have been cut off — docked, they 
call it.’^ 

Didn’t it hurt them ?” 

Yes, child ; it hurt them cruelly.” 

Then what made the man do it ?” 

Because he’s a cruel man — a man who, to gratify 
his own selfish vanity would subject his faithful 
animals to untold torture.” 

For a time they walked on in silence, when suddenly 
Helena asked : Mr. Bryan, will that man go to 

Heaven ?” 

What man, Helena ?” 

‘‘The one who cuts his horses’ tails off.” 

“ I cannot answer that question, child. But what 
do you think about it ?” 

“ I hope he won’t go to the other place,” she replied 
thoughtfully, “ but I don’t think he deserves to go to 
Heaven half as much as his poor horses do ; and I do 
wish the Lord would make him suffer — not forever 
and ever, you know, but for a little while — just as 
much as he made the horses suffer.” 

That evening Mr. Bryan asked Helena how she 
would like to be his little girl and live with him 
always. 

I’d like it more than I could tell !” she exclaimed 
joyfully. “ I’ve wished ever so many times I could, 
and I know poor mamma would like me to.” 

“ And how would you like to be called Helena 
Bryan — as though you were really my own little 
girl ?” 

She hesitated a moment, evidently considering the 
matter, then thoughtfully replied : “ If you want me 
to be, then I’d like it, I’m sure. And,” she added sud- 


136 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


denly, if I’m Helena Bryan, you will be my papa 
won’t you ? and I must call you so, mustn’t I ?” 

‘‘ Would you like to ?” 

O yes, sir ! It would be so nice to have a papa 
like other little girls. I’ve always wished I had one. 
But I never want another mamma. Mine is waiting 
for me up in Heaven — she said so — and when I die 
I’m to go to her.” 

After a moment’s pause she added earnestly: I’m 
so glad Mrs. Winter isn’t your wife. When I first 
came I thought she was because she was all dressed 
up so nice, and acted so — so bossish-like ; but some- 
how I couldn’t call her mamma, very well. 

Ere long the child climbed upon his knee, and put- 
ting her face affectionately against his, said : “ I’m so 
glad you’re to be my papa ; and I hope mamma 
knows, because she’ll be glad too.” 

Why do you think so ?” 

O because — I know so. Mamma was so worried 
about me that she cried a great deal. She didn’t know 
where I would stay after she died, till Mrs. Marvin 
promised to take me ; but Mr. Marvin wasn’t as nice 
as Mrs. Marvin was, and he wouldn’t let me stay.” 

Did your mother suffer very much ? Was she 
long ill ?” 

‘‘Yes, sir, most ever since I can remember; and 
she always coughed so much, and then she’d sigh, and 
seem to feel so bad !” 

“ Was your home comfortable and pretty ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ! We had a nice house, and lovely things 
in it. Of course it wasn’t near, no, not near so large 
as this; nor so nice either ; but it was a great deal 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 1 3/ 

nicer than Mrs. Hopdyke’s, or Mrs. Ruden’s, and most 
as nice as Mrs. Marvin’s.’* 

^‘Helena” (the man’s voice was very low), did 
your mother ever speak of me ? ” 

'•‘Not until the night she died. Then she did.” 

What did she say ? ” 

O, not very much. She just talked in her sleep, 
and called you ‘ dear Sidney.’ ” 

‘'Is that all she said ?” 

" O no, sir. She said a great many things, but not 
about you. But she made me promise to do what her 
letter said when I was fifteen years old, and to bring 
her other letter to you and not let anybody else read 
it. Then she woke up in the night and grabbed my 
arm, and made me promise not to listen to what the 
folks said about her.” 

“ What did they say ? ’ 

“ O, I don’t know exactly. They — that is a boy 
told me the women folks talked about mamma be- 
cause they were jealous of her because she had 
better clothes than they had, and because she talked 
nicer and used bigger words. Then some of them 
called mamma bad names because she used to wear 
pink silk stockings, and had a beautiful cloak all lined 
with lavender colored satin, and trimmed in white fur, 
and a lovely fan, and — lots of other nice things that 
they didn’t have.” 

“ Where did your mother get them ?” 

“ I don’t know. She never got them since I can re- 
member, and she never wore them either. She al- 
ways kept them upstairs in a big black chest, but 
sometimes she’d look at them and then she’d cry.” 

Mr. Bryan sighed, and rising walked across the 


138 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

room. He well remembered that cloak and fan. He 
remembered, too, how charming Gertrude had looked in 
her fairy-like slippers, and pink stockings. He had en- 
couraged her to wear them, and evenings when at 
home, to please him, she always had. ‘‘And for this,’' 
he thought, “ she has been slandered, and condemned, 
by a parcel of ignorant, narrow-minded busybodies.” 

It seemed perfectly natural for Helena to call Mr. 
Bryan “ papa,” and with her good night kiss she ad- 
dressed him by his new name as easily as though 
accustomed to it all her life. 

The next day she went boldly into the library, and 
taking a book from the case, began carefully turning 
the leaves. Mrs. Winter, ever on the alert, soon ap- 
peared and very sharply bade her put it down. 

“It’s my papa’s book,” she returned calmly, “and he 
said I might look at them whenever I wanted to.” 

Mrs. Winter stood aghast. “ Your papa’s ?” she re- 
peated in withering tones. “ And pray how long 
since he became your papa ?” 

“ Since last night,” was the prompt reply. 

“Well, it seems to me, miss, you’ve forgotten your 
real father rather soon.” 

“ I never had any real father,” said Helena. 

“ Don’t tell a lie,” exclaimed the woman angrily. 
“ Of course you had a father. How did you come to 
exist without ?” 

“ I don’t know as I did ‘ come to exist,’ ” returned 
the child stoutly ; “but I know I never had a father, 
because he died years and years before I was born.” 

“ Who told you that ?” 

“ Nobody told me ; but he must have, for mamma 
had forgotten all about him — it had been so long.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


139 


How do you know she had ?” 

Because she never told me about him, and she 
never mentioned him at all, and she would if she 
hadn’t forgotten him.” 

A great reasoner you are ! How old are you ?” 

^ I’m a quarter to ten.” 

‘‘ You’re what ?” 

A quarter to ten.” 

‘‘ What are you anyway — a clock ?” 

Helena laughed. Miss Nancy once said I was like 
a clock, because I had such a round face, and had two 
hands that could keep time. But Miss Nancy was 
queer, and didn’t know much.” 

I suppose you mean to insinuate that I’m queer 
and don’t know much either,” said Mrs. Winter. 

‘‘ O no, I didn’t. I don’t know what insinuate 
means. I never insinuated in my life, but I can 
count, and tell the time by a clock.” 

‘‘Well, what do you mean by saying you’re a quar- 
ter to ten?” 

“ I mean that I lack three months of being ten years 
old, and there are twelve months in a year, and three 
is a quarter of twelve, so I lack just a quarter of a 
year to being ten.” 

“ Well, who ever heard of such a droll way of ex- 
pressing one’s self ? What a queer child you are. 
Who did you get your queer ways from ?” 

“ I didn’t get them from anybody ; I haven’t got 
queer ways. Miss Nancy had — everybody said so ; 
and Tom Marshall and Ned Perkins used to hoot at 
her, and call her ‘ Crazy Nance,’ and throw stones at 
her door and then run. But I’m not one bit like her.” 


140 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


Who was this Miss Nancy you talk about so 
much ?” 

She’s a woman that goes around scrubbing, and 
washing, and ironing, and she baked for us besides.” 

I thought your mother done her own scrubbing, 
and you helped her.” 

Well, she didn’t. We hadn’t much to scrub, for 
every room was carpeted except the kitchen, and that 
had an oil cloth on it, and Miss Nancy mopped that.” 

She what ?” 

‘^Mopped it. Don’t you know what that means? 
Take a long stick like a broom handle, and fasten some 
rags on one end, and that’s a mop ; then swish it 
around in a pail of water and rub it over the floor, and 
that’s mopping.” 

Mrs. Winter drew the line at mopping. Nothing 
but scrubbing brushes and household sponges were 
consistent with her ideas of domestic propriety. 

“ You’ve been highly educated, I must say,” she said 
to Helena, in a contemptuous tone, “and very select 
associates you’ve had if this ' Miss Nancy queer,’ is a 
sample of them. No wonder your list of accomplish- 
ments is out of the usual order. And this,” she mut- 
tered, “ is the child who is to call Mr. Bryan ‘ papa’; a 
child who knows more about a mop than she does a 
piano, and everything else in accordance. Well, there’s 
no accounting for tastes ; but I do begin to think that 
Mr. Bryan is an old tool. I only wish I was sure of 
another place as good as this, and I’d give him notice 
and leave mighty sudden. But places like this ain’t to 
be got every day — no boss over me, plenty of servants 
to do the work, and I with nothing to do but give 
orders, and get big wages for it. Yes, the place is the 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


I4I 


best and the easiest I ever had, and I guess I’ll hang 
on to it; but IVe taken such a dislike to that child 
that I’d just like to leave out of spite.” 

A few evenings afterward Mr. Bryan sat in the library 
reading his paper. Helena, who considered him her 
only friend and clung to him accordingly with childish 
affection, sat on an ottoman near by, her face very 
earnest and thoughtful. At last when Mr. Bryan laid 
the paper aside, she abruptly asked : Papa, who is 
Gertrude ?” 

Mr. Bryan was startled. Gertrude — what do you 

mean, child ? what Gertrude ?” 

I was fixing up my room to-day,” she explained, • 
and in a drawer I found a beautiful book, all in blue 
and gold letters, and the name in it was ^ Gertrude.’ ” 
Mr. Bryan looked relieved. The book belonged to 
Mrs. Bryan, my wife,” he said. “ Her name was Ger- 
trude.” 

The same as my mamma’s. Did she know my 
mamma too ?” 

Yes, child, we both knew her.” 

I’m very sorry Mrs. Bryan is dead,” said Helena. 

I most know I would love her, because — well, because 
she had my mamma’s name, and because she was 
your wife. She wasn’t one bit like Mrs. Winter, was 
she ?” 

No ; not in the least.” 

‘‘ If she was here now, do you suppose she would 
like me, and let me stay ?” 

‘‘ Yes ; I’m very sure she would.” 

Have you any picture of her ? Because if you 
have I’d like to see it. Maybe she looked like mamma, 
seeing their names were alike.” 


142 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 

Helena/' said Mr. Bryan, come to me, and listen 
to what I tell you." The child left the ottoman and 
stepped to his side. I loved my wife very dearly," 
he proceeded, but she is dead, and it pains me to 
speak of her ; and I want to request that you never 
again ask me any questions concerning her. In fact, 
Helena, I wish you would never speak of her again, in 
any way whatever. Will you promise to heed me in 
this, little one ?" 

Yes, papa. Til promise to do anything you want 
me to, and not to do anything you don't want me 
to." 

‘‘You’re a good child," he said, stroking her dark 
curly hair ; “ and I'm very glad you came to me. 
You are no trouble at all, but a little sunbeam in- 
stead." 

Well pleased with his approbation she impulsively 
threw her arms around his neck, and giving him a 
good hug, said : “ I'm going to stay with you and do 
everything you want me to till I'm a young lady, and 
then I must go back to Billy." 

“ And who is Billy, pray ?" 

“ O — he's a boy I know." 

“So I suppose ; I've no idea he's a girl. But who 
is he ? 

“ He’s Billy Marvin, and he lives in Clydesville." 

“ Why must you go back to him 

The child hesitated, her face growing very serious, 
but at last she replied : “ I must go back to Billy be- 
cause I'm his wife." 

“ His what ?" 

“ His wife, papa. Billy and I are married, and I 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


143 


promised him I’d come back when I got old enough ; 
so I must go.” 

How old is this Billy ?” asked Mr. Bryan some- 
what anxiously. 

He’s just three years older than me ; that makes 
him twelve.” 

You should say ‘ older than I,’ instead of ‘ older 
than me,’ ” suggested Mr. Bryan. I think,” he re- 
sumed, you’ll need to go to school a while, and learn 
better grammar, before you talk of being married, and 
going back to live with that freckle-faced youngster,” 

Billy isn’t a ‘ youngster,’ papa, and he hasn’t a sin- 
gle freckle,” she returned quickly. He’s the handsom- 
est boy I ever saw and the smartest, and the best ; and 
he knows grammar, and everything else. He got the 
prize for knowing the most of any scholar in school.” 

And so you intend to leave me for that boy, as 
soon as you grow up ? Is that it ?” 

I don’t want to leave you, papa,” she said thought- 
fully, for I love you very much ; but I love Billy, 
too, and he loves me ; and I promised. So I suppose 
when I’m big enough I must go and live with him like 
other married ladies do. But,” she added naively, 
Billy and I can come back and live here, and then I 
can be with you both.” 

Mr. Bryan leaned back and laughed aloud, but ob- 
serving the child’s serious expression — an expression 
belonging to a face far older than hers — his own be- 
came thoughtful. Possibly there was more to this 
affair than he knew ; it might be well to ascertain the 
facts, then act as the case demanded. 


144 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Having resolved that any childish nonsense of a 
matrimonial nature existing between Helena and Billy 
Marvin must be at once ended, Mr. Bryan took her on 
his knee, and in a kindly tone said : Now tell me, 
Helena, what all this means ; how, and when were 
you and Billy married ?’' 

Willingly enough she told him of all Billy’s kindness 
to her, and how sorry he had felt when his father re- 
fused to admit her to his home. Then she told him 
of the ceremony that moonlight night beside her 
mother’s grave. Her story was narrated so ingeniously, 
and in so earnest a manner, as to surprise her listener 
into momentary silence. 

Presently however speaking very firmly, he said : 

Helena, you are only a little girl, and Billy is a mere 
boy. Neither of you understand anything about mar- 
riage, and that ceremony was nothing but child’s play ; 
so you must forget all about it, and never refer to it 
again.” 

O no, papa !” she cried earnestly. It wasn’t play 
at all! We were in real earnest. I meant it, and 
Billy meant it too ; and we did just like John Bolton 
and Anna Willis did when they were married. And 
when we got done being married we both said : ‘ May 
God bless this union. Amen.’ ” 

So you performed the ceremony yourselves ?” 

^^Yeg, sir; all alone.” 

- And do you think yoq are really married without 
a minister ?” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


I4S 


O yes, sir. Billy heard his father read in a news- 
paper that folks could get married in this State with- 
out a minister.” 

Mr. Bryan could not refrain from smiling. In a 
way it all seemed very ridiculous, and yet, there was a 
pathetic side to the story. My child,” he said gently^ 
'' I am sure that neither you or Billy intended to do 
anything wrong ; but it was wrong nevertheless. 
Marriage is a sacred thing, and not to be indulged in 
by little children like you two. Consequently it was 
only a play marriage, and you are no more Billy’s 
wife than I am.” 

But papa,” she returned imploringly, my mamma 
knew all about it ; she told me so when she came to 
me that night in the church.” 

“ What did she tell you ?” 

She said she was with Billy and me when we were 
married, and when I told her that sometime I was 
going back to him she only smiled, and that shows 
that she didn’t care ; don’t it, papa ?” 

*^That was only a dream, Helena. She did not 
really come to you. Your mother would never sanc- 
tion such an act as that between Billy and you. Now, 
my dear, I want you, like an obedient little girl, to 
drop all this nonsense and never speak of being his 
wife again. In fact, you must never speak of Billy 
again, nor even think of him. Will you promise me: 
this.” 

For answer she burst into tears — not wilful angry 
tears, but those of heartfelt grief, at the ending of 
this, the greatest of all her hopes^ 

“ I do not wish to hurt your- feelings,” said Mr.. 
Bryan soothingly, ‘‘but I am a better judge than you 


146 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


and certainly know what is best. Now, don’t cry, 
little one ; let me wipe away your tears, then promise 
me you will do as I wish. Will you, Helena ?” 

Yes — papa,” she sobbed. I — I’ll promise.” 

You’re a dear little girl,” he said approvingly, 

and to-morrow Kate or Maggie shall take you over 
to the Park for the whole afternoon. If you like you 
may go every day ; and Saturday afternoons and Sun- 
days I’ll go with you myself.” 

Helena smiled, but it was only a faint little smile. 
Those trips to the Park promised a great treat, but 
she was too steadfast by nature, and too loyal to Billy, 
to cast him off so easily, even for the magnificent 
animals in Central Park. In numerous ways Mr. 
Bryan endeavored to divert her mind by promises of 
trips here and there, of new dresses, hats and toys. 
She tried to appear pleased, and grateful, but on 
going to her room she threw herself on the bed and 
sobbed piteously. 

O Billy ! won’t I see you any more ?” she cried. 

What will you think when I get grown up and don’t 
come back to you ? And oh ! you’ll go then and get 
married to some other girl, and papa will make me get 
married to some other boy ! O, I’m so sorry. Dear 
Billy, I’ll never love any boy but you — never, never, 
never !” 

It suddenly occurred to her that she was not keep- 
ing her promise to Mr. Bryan. Conscientious to a 
degree, she hurriedly rose, and going down stairs 
knocked at the library door. On being admitted she 
went straight to him, and raising her tear-stained face 
said : 

“ Papa, I’ve come to take back one of the promises 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? I47 

I made, for I can’t keep it. I tried to keep it but 
couldn’t, so I’ve come to tell you, for I don’t want to 
tell a wrong story.” 

‘‘ What promise do you wish to take back ?” he 
asked gravely. 

The one about not thinking any more about Billy. 
I promised not to mention Gertrude again, and that 
one I’ll keep ; and I promised never to speak of Billy, 
and that one I’ll keep. But I can’t help but think 
about him — he will come in my thoughts, and so I 
wanted you to know.” 

Mr. Bryan admired her straightforwardness, and 
after a moment’s meditation said : Well, in that case, 
little one. I’ll release you from that promise. Go on 
thinking about Billy as much as you like, only promise 
that you will never write to him, nor to his mother, or 
any one in Clydesville, nor speak of him to me, or to 
any one else, and I shall be satisfied.” 

To all this she faithfully promised. ‘‘ Now run 
back to bed,” he added, '‘and try to dream of Billy.” 

When alone he muttered : " What a strange fancy 
for a child of nine. Well, in a year or so, surrounded 
as she will be by different people and different scenes, 
she will cease to think of him, and by the time she is 
grown, she will have forgotten his existence. It’s 
better so, far better ; her life is destined to flow in 
another channel from what it began. Nothing must 
be permitted to remind her of Clydesville, or of her 
life while there. She must if possible forget that she 
was a Channing, and that her poor mother was 
ostracized by her Clydesville neighbors. What a 
brute Channing must have been, to have allowed one 
word to slip that would have injured her. He must 


148 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

have done so — how else can the scandal be accounted 
for? But Helena must never know. Still, I fear that 
in future something may occur to arouse her curiosity 
and suspicion. Never must she get an inkling of the 
relations existing between her mother and myself, if 
I can prevent it. But I suppose when she is older I 
shall be at my wit's end many a time to answer her 
questions. She's quick of comprehension, possesses an 
inquiring mind, and is bound, I fear, to think of many 
things concerning her mother's broken sentences, the 
promises exacted of her, and the letter to me. O 
Gertrude !" he suddenly exclaimed, ‘‘ if you had been 
as loyal to me, as your child is to this Billy, I would 
be the happiest man on earth to-day. I always 
doubted that you were heartlessly false to me, and 
now I know you were not. You took the step which 
led to your destruction — not through unhappiness 
with me, who tried so hard to make you happy, but — 
through the influence of a scoundrel who must have 
hypnotized you ; and once in his power you knew that 
you were lost forever. O my poor Gertrude ! had I 
known the cause of your distress when I proposed our 
trip to Mexico, how differently I would have acted. 
You struggled to resist his evil influence but suc- 
cumbed at last, and went with him, broke my heart, 
and blasted your life ; and now, after all these years, 
you tear open the wound until it bleeds afresh. Her 
child and his ! and I have adopted her ! My God ! 
what an irony of fate !" 

For a long time Mr. Bryan sat meditating in silence. 
At last he rose, and going to his desk took from it a 
photograph, upon which he gazed long and earnestly. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 149 

Then with pallid lips and trembling hands he tore it 
into atoms. 

'' Farewell my lost love,” he sighed. It is indeed 
hard to do this, but I do it for your sake, and for your 
child’s. Helena might sometime discover it, recognize 
you, and in some manner ascertain the truth. So for 
your sake, and for hers, I part with the dearest treas- 
ure I possess.” 

From another drawer he withdrew the letter Ger- 
trude had enclosed to him in the jewel case, and like- 
wise destroyed that ; throwing the fragments, together 
with those of the photograph, into the grate, then 
touching them with a lighted match he watched them 
burn until the last ember had ceased to glow. 

“ My mind will be relieved now,” he muttered ; and 
if I go away and leave my desk unlocked, as I have 
frequently done, I shall not be exercised because of 
Mrs. Winter’s prying curiosity. Nothing remains now 
by which a link can be formed except the knowledge 
which Mrs. Ruden holds, and that shall be inves- 
tigated and acted upon without delay.” 


» 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Twelve years passed. Little Helena Channing, the 
child of nine who so miraculously found her way into 
the affections of her mother’s wronged husband, 
against all precedent and custom, could scarcely be 
recognized in Helena Bryan, of nearly twenty-one, 
whom wealth and educational advantages had de- 


150 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

veloped into an exceedingly interesting girl. At 
nineteen she had graduated from a well-known 
young ladies’ seminary in New York, and at Mr. 
Bryan’s request had taken her place at the head of 
his house. 

Mrs. Winter’s old time prejudice had somewhat 
softened, and her position was not surrendered as re- 
luctantly or as ungraciously as she at one time would 
have supposed. Particularly when she was made to 
understand that the home, and the big wages” as 
well, would still be hers, and the position too, for that 
matter. Helena would only be the nominal head ; 
evidently she did not aspire to assuming the real 
duties of the position. Mrs. Winter, with all her 
faults, was a thoroughly good housekeeper, and her 
long experience in managing the house made her an 
invaluable servant, and Helena therefore was perfectly 
content to become a mere figurehead, enjoying the 
distinction without any of its responsibilities. 

Years before, when Mr. Bryan and his wife were liv- 
ing happily together — as he supposed — they had dur- 
ing their two seasons of married life been quite im- 
portant factors in society. She was handsome and 
attractive; he, generous and fond of entertaining. 
But when he returned from his Mexican travels, so 
changed and saddened, his social acquaintances knew 
him no more. Their world moved on, and he was 
soon forgotten except by a circle of real friends, who 
occasionally visited him in a quiet way, and received 
visits from him in return. 

On leaving school, Helena often met with these 
friends of her adopted father, with whom she soon be- 
came very popular, and, owing to his tact, she 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 151 

was not humiliated by an investigation into her family 
history. It was supposed that her parents were old 
friends of Mr. Bryan, whom he had known in his 
younger days, and no further thought was given to 
the matter. At one time, years back, when Helena 
first came to him, Mr. Bryan had feared that the 
knowledge Mrs. Ruden possessed might in some way 
lead to the child’s identity being disclosed, and event- 
ually to unpleasant discoveries. For the purpose of 
circumventing anything of the kind he went to New- 
burg, intending to not only recompense the Rudens 
for their kindness to the child, but to pledge them to 
secrecy as well. But on arriving he found they had 
gone to the far west, to take up government land. 

Mr. Bryan felt greatly relieved. Poor and obscure 
as they were, and so far removed from Helena, no 
harm could possibly come to her through them. Be- 
sides, Mrs. Ruden had not opened the letter ad- 
dressed to him — of that he was certain, for the seal 
had not been broken. So her knowledge was very 
limited after all. She only knew that the child’s name 
was Channing, and that she had been sent to a Mr. 
Bryan. 

Before Helena had long held the reins of govern- 
ment in the Bryan establishment, several of Mr. 
Bryan’s friends suggested the advisability of her becom- 
ing a member of society. These suggestions, however, 
were not received with enthusiasm on her part. She 
had her few very dear friends, to whom she was al- 
ways at home,” and very glad of their companion- 
ship ; but the thought of becoming an active member 
of society, with all the position would entail, was 
rather overpowering. 


152 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

Father,” she exclaimed, I should be perfectly 
miserable if I were compelled to devote almost my 
whole time to thinking and studying what to wear; 
always trying to appear in something new and orig- 
inal, and outrival all the other girls, and, if I am 
rightly informed, that’s the principal ambition of 
society women.” 

But, Helena ” 

“ O father, please don’t ! I’m perfectly content as I 
am. I have more gowns now than I know what to do 
with, real pretty ones too, and ” 

Go into society then, and wear them,” he said. 

Once there you’ll soon find out what to do with 
them.” 

‘‘You innocent darling,” exclaimed the girl laugh- 
ing. “ If I were to enter society wdth the gowns I 
possess, I don’t think I would remain there long. No 
one would care to know me, and I would be cut 
dead.” 

“ I thought you spoke as though your gowns were 
very nice and pretty ?” 

“ So they are for home use, and for any occasion 
which my present mode of life demands. But society ! 
Really ” 

“Well, Helena, if it is a. question of dress — and 
jewels probably — get more,” was his generous reply. 

“ I know you mean to consult my interests, father, 
as you have always done; but having just left school, 
I would like to take up a course of reading for a year 
or so, and if I ever enter society, I should prefer to be 
rec^ognized for what I know, more particularly than for 
what I wear. And,” she added smiling, “ that is the 
ambition of the ‘ ne\y woman,’ you know.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


IS3 


Nothing more was said on the subject until Mrs. 
Herbert Lancaster approached him. Mrs. Lancaster 
was a 'cind, motherly woman, well known in inner 
society circles and an ardent admirer of Helena 
Bryan. Being an old and valued friend of Mr. Bryan, 
she began by pleasantly upbraiding him for being such 
a recluse. He offered the same excuse as of old. 

O nonsense,'' replied Mrs. Lancaster. That's 
no way to show your true appreciation of your wife, 
or of her memory. No woman now-a-days, expects a 
man to live like a hermit for the rest of his life after 
she dies, and you've done so for the past twenty — I 
I don't know how many years. Now, to my thinking, 
if a man really wishes to show that he really valued 
his wife's companionship to such a degree that he can- 
not be happy alone why — let him get another; the 
sooner the better. Remaining single, my dear Mr. 
Bryan, like you are doing, looks as though one 
matrimonial experience was quite enough, and you 
dared not attempt it again." 

Mrs. Lancaster smiled at her own wit, never suspect- 
ing how hard she had hit her friend. But Mr. Bryan 
good-naturedly retorted : 

You certainly have not practiced what you preach, 
Mrs. Lancaster, or you would not have remained a 
widow all these years. Perhaps," he added face- 
tiously, ‘^your advice is good, and it might be well for 
us both to consider it seriously." 

‘‘ O Mr. Bryan !" she exclaimed with a coquettish 
little laugh. ‘‘You surely do not think — er — really, 
we have known each other so many years you know, 
and are such very good friends — to say nothing of our 


154 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK 


being so very ancient. Well, to say the least, the idea 
is as amusing as it is absurd.” 

They both laughed heartily, as if it were a good 
joke. Mr. Bryan had felt very safe in making that 
little speech. He knew Mrs. Lancaster too well, to 
fear that she would catch at any bait of a matrimonial 
nature even from him. She was too fond of the 
income derived from her landed estates to trust her 
self, her income, or the said estates to the control or 
supervision of any man. 

‘^Suppose we change the subject,” said Mrs. Lan- 
caster, ‘‘ and speak seriously for a moment. I called 
expressly to consult with you about Helena. Your 
adopted daughter is a charming girl — a brilliant girl ; 
and it’s a positive shame for you to exclude her from 
the world as you do. You are getting old, and the 
world can do without you very well ; but she is young, 
life is before her, and she should in no way be — be — 
well, in no way be handicapped. That’s probably not 
a proper word to apply to a young lady — its’s a sort of 
race track phrase, I suppose ; but then I think it 
expresses my meaning.” 

Really, my dear Mrs. Lancaster, I assure you 
Helena is in no way ^ handicapped ’; she has perfect 
freedom, and my approval as well, in regard to going 
into society ; but she seems to oppose it.” 

Pooh ! Helena is a mere girl — just fresh from 
school ; and she doesn’t know what is best for her. 
Pardon the allusion, but she has been reared in such a 
prim, Quakerish fashion, that’s it no wonder if she im- 
agines she’d feel like a stray cat in a garret. But just 
give her an insight into another life and she’ll take to 
it readily enough. I was a girl once myself — of 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 155 

course,” she added naively, it was a good many years 
ago, but not so many but that I remember the time 
distinctly. Now, Mr. Bryan, I’d like nothing better 
than introducing, and chaperoning Helena for the com- 
ing season ; and with your permission, will gladly take 
her especially under my own charge.” 

Mrs. Lancaster felt rather elated over her past suc- 
cesses in that line. Through her instrumentality not 
very long before. Miss Imogene Courtney, a charming 
young girl of great wealth, had been graciously re- 
ceived into the most exclusive society circles, from 
which the girl’s family had always been excluded, be- 
cause their pedigree was not considered up to the regu- 
lation standard. Through Mrs. Lancaster’s influence, 
however, this younger daughter of the family was wel- 
comed with open arms. But she eventually showed 
her contempt, or at least her non-appreciation of the 
favor (?) extended to her, by turning her back on New 
York society and uniting herself to a titled foreigner, 
much to the disgust of her father, a shrewd financier, 
who, having made his millions in America, was suffici- 
ently American, and loyal as well, to prefer that his 
daughter wed one of her own countrymen. But, on 
discovering that Miss Imogene had a will on the sub- 
ject equal to his own, he quietly relented, and sent the 
pair off with his blessing and a few of his millions 
besides. 

While, as a rule, this too prevalent desire among 
American heiresses to marry titles is lamentable, there 
are palliating circumstances, and the one in point may 
be considered as such, from the fact that the girl’s 
family, while in every way respectable, had been cruelly 
ignored until some of the European nobility extended 


156 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

to them a friendly hand. Is it to be wondered at 
then, or should the girl be censured for seeking redress 
for the slights to her family by taking herself and her 
fortune to more friendly shores than her own had 
been ? 

Even Mrs. Lancaster would have been more elated, 
perhaps, had she succeeded in bringing about some 
brilliant match for her charming young heiress in this 
country ; but with all her influence, all her wealth and 
social power, she had found, as had the father, that it 
was out of her province to control the girl’s inclinations 
to that extent. 

American society estimates such losses only from a 
social standpoint, but European families of pedigree, 
and particularly the one most favored, it is to be re- 
gretted, look upon the match in the nature of a brilliant 
coup, as might be made by a lucky member of their 
ranks at Monte Carlo. 

As might be expected, Mrs. Lancaster persuaded 
Mr, Bryan to exert a positive influence with Helena, 
which resulted in her ‘‘primitive objections ” — as Mrs. 
Lancaster called them — being overruled. Once within 
the gay swirl of fashionable indulgences, natural in- 
stinct inspired her with the desire to not be outdone ; 
and even Mrs. Lancaster could find nothing but praise 
for her numerous successes. But in her heart, Helena 
felt that she could not be satisfied to live the life of a 
devotee of fashion, with all its affectation and outward 
show, and insincerity and jealousies within. 

For two seasons the girl held her own, and with a 
degree of recklessness plunged into metropolitan 
amusements and pleasures. But as the second season 
was drawing to a close, she experienced a feeling of 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


157 


relief, rather than regret ; and welcomed the approach 
of the Lenten season with its weeks of peaceful 
quietude. 

“ I shall soon have a little time to myself,'’ she 
mused, in which to read something aside from so- 
ciety news, with its descriptions of Mrs. A’s imported 
gowns, Mrs. V’s magnificent diamonds, and Mrs. C’s 
tropical floral display, to say nothing of dances at 
Sherry's, first night displays at the opera, and recep- 
tions ad libitum. And to-morrow it's just the same 
with the scenery slightly shifted. Thank goodness 
only one more ball ! the grand affair of the season, 
and then a long rest. Won’t I enjoy it, though 1 My 
vice-like gowns will be laid aside, and I shall be able 
to draw a full breath. Some features of society are 
pleasant enough, if one could only be comfortable 
while enioying them." 


CHAPTER XV. 

The grand affair of the season " was over. Helena 
returned home earlier than she usually did from such 
entertainments, and in a strangely thoughtful mood. 
Mr. Bryan had not retired but sat dozing before the 
grate in the library. 

Father," she said regretfully, I hope you have 
not waited up on my account. I would have come 
even earlier had I thought you were waiting for me." 

She removed her wraps and threw them across a 
chair, slowly drew off her gloves, and tossed them on 


158 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


a table ; then drawing a chair to the fire sat down. 
Mr. Bryan asked several commonplace questions about 
the ball, to which he received brief and mechanical 
answers ; then for a time they sat in silence. At last 
he rose and said good night. That aroused her. 

‘‘ Father, before you go,'’ she began hesitatingly, I 
wish to know whether you have a photograph or a 
likeness of any kind of your wife.” 

Mr. Bryan sat down, or rather sank back into his 
chair in amazement. Her question had startled him 
into momentary disquietude. Feigning not to observe 
it, Helena continued : 

If you have one I should like very much to see it.” 

I have no likeness of her of any kind or descrip- 
tion,” he returned, attempting to speak easily. 

‘^How strange,” said the girl. ^‘Surely she must 
have had them taken ?” 

Yes ; but I do not think there is one in existence 
now.” 

What has become of them ?” 

“Lost, I suppose, or destroyed.” 

She appeared dissatisfied — distrustful. “ Father,” 
she said, looking at him very earnestly, “ loving her 
as you did, is it not strange that any likeness you may 
have had of her should have been destroyed ? — and 
stranger still, when it was the last, and only one ? It 
seems incredible that you destroyed it yourself or that 
you permitted any one else to do so.” 

“ I know it does,” he returned regretfully, “but 
such is the case nevertheless. But tell me, Helena, 
what has prompted you all at once to wish to see her 
likeness ?” 

“Curiosity, I suppose,” she replied frankly enough. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 1 59 

‘‘I was told to-night that I looked like her, — near 
enough to be her own daughter. In fact, I was taken 
for such/' 

A shade passed over Mr. Bryan's face, and his lips 
compressed ; but bravely efideavoring to keep master 
of the situation, he smilingly replied : 

No wonder, being known as you are as my daugh- 
ter. The person was some stranger to you, no doubt, 
who does not know the facts. Who was it, by the 
way ?" 

gentleman who has recently returned from 
abroad, where he has resided a number of years. His 
name is Belaires." 

“Belaires?" repeated Mr. Bryan, a whiteness set- 
tling about his lips. 

‘‘Yes; Mr. Belaires," returned Helena, “ a bachelor 
of some forty years, I should judge. We were intro- 
duced, and after dancing together, had quite a long 
chat, in which he surprised me by saying that when 
he was a young man he knew my mother very well. 
‘ My mother?’ said I, ‘when and where pray?' Then 
he explained that many years ago he had often met 
her, she being an intimate friend of his sister Helen, 
now Mrs. Fielding, of Los Angeles, California. Mr. 
Belaires also said the last time he saw my mother was 
one vacation when home from college, and the last 
call he made before returning to college was to see 
her. I asked where she was living at the time, and he 
replied in West Fifty-seventh Street, near Fifth 
Avenue. ‘You are speaking of Mrs. Bryan, my 
father's wife,’ I said. Then I informed him of his 
mistake, and that I was a Bryan only by adoption. 
At first he appeared incredulous and remarked that 


i6o 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


my resemblance to Mrs. Bryan was striking, and that 
if I were not her own daughter it was a most remark- 
able coincidence. That is the reason of my eagerness 
to see her picture.'' 

Mr. Bryan felt somewhat reassured, and laughingly 
remarked that Mr. Belaires' statement was pure im- 
agination. 

‘‘My child," he said," “naturally Mr. Belaires 
thought you were our own daughter, and then it was 
easy to imagine that you resembled my wife — your 
supposed mother." 

“ But, father, Mr. Belaires insisted that I closely 
resembled her even after he knew the facts." 

“ Helena," returned Mr. Bryan in an indulgent 
voice, “ let me tell you a little story — it will illustrate 
fully my idea of the case. A certain Mrs. Blank called 
upon a certain Mrs. Pepper, in behalf of a charitable 
mission. Mrs. Pepper had a mulatto cook, who was a 
widow with one child — a boy, of perhaps three years. 
The child possessed so fair a complexion, that a casual 
observer would never have detected the colored blood 
in his veins. The boy, Abraham Lincoln Buckley by 
name, was quite a pet in the Pepper household, and 
was permitted to wander about wherever he pleased ; 
and it so happened that during Mrs. Blank's call, the 
child found his way into the parlor. Mrs. Blank 
quickly spied him as he toddled into the room, and 
naturally enough took him to be Mrs. Pepper's child. 
Wishing to make a good impression, and thinking the 
surest way to appeal to the mother was through the 
child, she put out both hands to him, saying : ‘ Come 
here, my little man, and tell me your name. What a 
sweet little boy !' she exclaimed, taking him on her 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? l6l 

lap and giving him a hearty kiss. ‘ What a little dar- 
ling to be sure ; so like his papa, too ! — a perfect pic- 
ture of your husband, Mrs. Pepper.” 

“‘Are you acquainted with my husband?' Mrs. 
Pepper asked smilingly. 

“‘Well, no; not exactly acquainted perhaps. But 
I know him very well by sight, and I should have 
known this lovely little darling was his, had I run 
across him a thousand miles away.' 

“‘I think,” returned Mrs. Pepper with an ironical 
smile, ‘ that your imagination is rather running riot, 
for I assure you, Mrs. Blank, the child is not my hus- 
band's, nor mine ; he belongs to my colored cook, and 
v/as born before my husband knew of her existence.’ 

“ Mrs. Blank was covered with confusion, and forget- 
ting all about her charitable mission, hastened away. 
But she obstinately refused to admit that she had 
been wrong, or that she had spoken of the resemblance 
merely from policy, and on leaving the door, re- 
marked : ‘ One often meets with strange things in 
life, and particularly strange freaks in nature ; and 
this is certainly one of them, for I positively assure 
you, Mrs. Pepper, that child is a living picture of Mr. 
Pepper.' 

“ So it's my opinion, Helena,” added Mr. Bryan 
emphatically, “ that Mr. Belaires was in the same boat 
as was Mrs. Blank, and, having made the assertion, he 
insisted that he was correct whether or no.” 

“ But father, what about that letter ? — the one I 
brought you from my mother. 1 was not to know its 
contents because I was too young, I suppose, to com- 
prehend; but surely, nothing need be withheld longer. 


i 62 what would the world think? 

Were my mother here now, she would trust me, I am 
sure/’ 

The letter you refer to was destroyed long ago, 
my child. It was among other papers, and none of 
them remain.” 

What a pity!” exclaimed the girl. I have been 
thinking about that letter to-night, and was so very an- 
xious to read it. But father, you remember what it 
said, do you not ?” 

‘‘A portion of it, certainly, but not all.” 

Will you tell me all you can remember ?” 

‘‘ My child, the letter of course was written almost 
entirely in your behalf. Your mother stated that she 
was dying, and leaving you alone and unprovided for; 
and she requested me for the sake of past friendship 
to take and care for you. That is the sum and sub- 
stance of it.” 

But, father, if that is all why did she so positively 
forbid me to read it ? — even as a child I might have 
known all that.” 

Your mother was ill and fanciful — perhaps whim- 
sical,” he returned, not knowing what else to say. 

‘‘And the jewel case, father — you gave that to her, 
did you not ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ When did you give it to her ?” 

“ Mr. Bryan was becoming very nervous under her 
examination, and close scrutiny. But endeavoring to 
appear perfectly at ease, he answered : 

“ I gave it to her when she was a mere girl ; long 
before she was married to your father — before she had 
ever seen him, in fact.” 

“ Do you know where my parents were married ? 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 163 

My mother never told me anything about it, and I 
know very little concerning them, although I remem- 
ber all she ever told me/* 

‘‘Your mother went west — to Chicago, I believe; 
and they were married out there, somewhere.’* 

“ Did she go alone ? — Had she no relatives ? — Have 
I none on her side ?’* 

“ None that I know of now living. Your mother, 
like yourself, was an orphan and an only child ; conse- 
quently on her side you never had an uncle, aunt, or 
cousin.** 

“ Whom did she live with ?’* 

“ An uncle of hers in Philadelphia.** 

“ And — and, father, did you become acquainted 
with her there ?’* 

“Yes. I often went over to Philadelphia on busi- 
ness in which her uncle was interested, and in that 
manner became acquainted with her, although at that 
time she was a mere child.” 

“ Where is the uncle now ? — my great uncle he is in 
fact.” 

“ He died when your mother was but sixteen years 
old.” 

“ Were you a married man at that time ?” 

“No.” 

“ What did my mother do after her uncle’s death ?” 

“ Well, I looked after her interests partly, and went 
over to Philadelphia occasionally expressly to see that 
she was getting along all right.” 

“ And you became fond of her during that time ?” 

“Yes — I, that is, I was very much interested in 
her.” 

“ How long after that before she went west ?” 


164 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

Between two and three years, I believe/' 

Were you a married man when she went ?" 

O yes," he returned quickly, as though relieved. 
‘‘ I had been married two years or more." 

“ Father, where did your wife become acquainted 
with my mother ?" 

In Philadelphia. She and I often went there." 

Did my mother ever come here — was she ever in 
this house ?" 

Mr. Bryan felt that he stood on the verge of dis- 
covery. If Helena once suspected that her mother 
had been there, she would be sure to question old 
Thomas, the butler, whom she knew to have been in 
the household many years. Nor could he enter into 
collusion with the butler and coach him what to, or 
what not to say, without arousing his suspicions. And 
if Helena were to discover that his wife, Gertrude 
Bryan, also came from Philadelphia and insisted — as 
she certainly would — on a complete description of her, 
nothing after that could allay her suspicion of the real 
facts. He also realized that if she persisted in her 
present line of questions, a disclosure would soon be 
inevitable, unless he resorted to out and out falsehood. 
All this passed rapidly through his mind, but as 
though endeavoring to recall some past event, he 
slowly replied : 

If I remember correctly, your mother on leaving 
Philadelphia prior to going west, came to New York, 
and started from here, and — let me think — yes, I be- 
lieve she did call." 

Mr. Bryan felt that he had skilfully dissuaded her 
from consulting with Thomas on the subject ; for as a 
mere caller, she would not even be remembered. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 165 

Whom did my mother go to Chicago to see?'* 
she asked abruptly. 

That I cannot tell you," he replied in a quiet tone. 

My wife and I started for Mexico about that time, 
and I lost all trace of your mother, and never saw her 
again." 

^'But, father, tell me, did she not " 

Helena," he interrupted almost impatiently, I re- 
quested you years ago, not to mention her to me 
again. Let me repeat that request now. This con- 
versation pains me more than you know." 

The girl looked at him searchingly. Father," she 
replied, I do not remember that you ever requested 
me until now, to not mention mj/ mother. But you 
once did request me never to mention your wife." 

“ Alas ! " he exclaimed with a sigh. I was think- 
ing of Gertrude Bryan, my wife, and not of Gertrude 
Channing, your mother." 

Helena's expression alarmed him. I must be 
growing old and childish," he said with a feeble 
attempt at gaiety ; but the time was when both Ger- 
trudes were very dear to me, and " he proceeded 

guardedly, I will admit to you that I did love your 
mother long before I loved my wife." 

He suddenly paused, feeling that his explanation 
was very weak, and not at all acceptable to her. He 
realized that he was getting into deep water — deeper 
and deeper every moment. 

“ Father," continued Helena, if you loved my 
mother, why did you not marry her ? I am sure she 
loved you. I have often thought during the last few 
years that once you did love her, but that she married 
my father, and, having lost her, you did not marry 


l66 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

until long afterward ; but to-night I learn differently, 
you married first, not she/’ 

Mr. Bryan felt that she had found a clue at last, and 
he knew not how to evade her questions. Dealing 
with an unsuspecting child of nine, and with a shrewd 
girl of nearly twenty-one, whose curiosity — not to say 
suspicion — was aroused, were quite different matters, 
and he almost doubted his ability to longer cope with 
her. 

Will you not tell me? ’’she asked gently, after 
waiting in vain for an answer. 

Why, after all these years, Helena, do you ask me 
these strange questions to-night ? ” he suddenly de- 
manded. 

Because I love you very dearly,” was the earnest 
reply, *^and because I loved my mother very dearly. 
Is it not natural then — am I not justified in wishing 
to know everything concerning her — concerning you 
both ? particularly regarding your relations to each 
other ? ” 

Mr. Bryan remained silent, deeming it the best 
policy until he had considered what answer to make. 
He knew that so far, he had blundered ; while his 
manner had aroused rather than dispelled her curi- 
osity. What was running in her mind he did not 
know, nor did he dare to ask, or show any interest. 
She was liable the next moment to ask something else 
unanswerable, and no knowing to what extent her 
imagination would lead her. Wishing to allay all sus- 
picion of the truth — if any existed in her mind — he 
made, after a moment’s* meditation, what he con- 
sidered a diplomatic move. 

Helena/’ he said, let us change the subject for a 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 167 

moment. Would you miss me very much if I were to 
go away for a few weeks — possibly a few months ?’' 

She looked at him in astonishment. Never, to her 
recollection, had he been from home for more than 
one day at a time . unless she had been with him, and 
she replied : Certainly I would miss you, father ; 
but when and where are you going?” 

I have been thinking,” he returned slowly, that 
perhaps a trip would do me good, and — I would like 
to go to Mexico again ; and — I would like to visit my 
wife’s grave. Poor woman, she lies alone, year after 
year, apparently forgotten.” 

1 never knew before that she was buried in 
Mexico,” said Helena, interpreting his words just as 
he had intended she should. 

‘‘ Did I never tell you about our trip, and about her 
death ?” he asked in a constrained voice. 

‘‘ No ; never a word.” 

‘‘ Well, child, it’s late now, and I don’t feel like sit- 
ting up any longer to-night. In fact, I don’t like to 
speak of it at all. But in the morning if you will ask 
Thomas, he will tell you anything you wish to know. 
He was very fond of Mrs. Bryan, and was in our 
employ when she died. Good night.” 

He abruptly left the room, glad to escape, and 
rather flattered himself on having effectually uprooted 
any growing suspicion which she may have enter- 
tained. 

My poor misguided Gertrude !” he mused, Your 
child shall never know your sad story. I’ll evade it in 
some manner even if for your sake, sind for hers, I am 
compelled to dissemble and equivocate. And if 
Helena questions Thomas, he can innocently dissuade 


l68 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 

her mind from the real facts — he has nothing to guard, 
nothing to conceal, and I hope I have succeeded in 
shifting the task to him/' 

As for Helena her mind was somewhat confused. 
For years she had secretly wondered over numerous 
little things — not much in themselves, but forming 
important links when added together. She had long 
known that her real father had not died years and 
years before her birth, as at one time she firmly be- 
lieved. She also remembered having heard her 
mother, the night she died, speak in her dreams of 
Mr. Bryan as dear Sidney while she had never 
heard her own father’s name mentioned. All this 
occurred to her with renewed force since Mr. Belaires 
had commented upon her resemblance to Mrs. 
Bryan. 

The next morning, directly Mr. Bryan had gone 
down town, Helena approached old Thomas, the 
butler, and rather surprised him with her abrupt ques- 
tions. 

Thomas,” she began, do you distinctly remem- 
ber Mrs. Bryan, my father’s wife 

‘‘Remember 'er, Miss Helena? Well, I should say 
I do. A kinder lady never lived.” 

“Do I look like her ?’^ 

Thomas gazed at the girl curiously a moment, 
then shaking his white head, solemnly replied ; “ No, 
Miss Helena, not as I can see.” 

“Are you sure, Thomas ? Look at me closely.” 

“ Yes, Miss Helena ; I’m certain sure.” 

“ But I was told only last evening that I looked 
very much like her ?” 

“ Some folks ’ave eyes, and so ’ave needles,” re- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 1 69 

turned Thomas in a manner intended to settle the 
question beyond a doubt. 

‘‘Tell me something of her,” continued Helena. 
“ Father does not care to speak of her, and I would 
like to know.” 

“ Well, Miss Helena, there isn’t much to tell ex- 
ceptin’ she was as beautiful as she was good an’ kind. 
She an’ master lived together like two turtle doves 
for more ’n two years, then she took kind of sick ; not 
sick exactly, either, but she got nervous, an’ thin, an’ 
worried looking. Then master he got more worried 
than she was, an’ soon they started off for Mexico for 
’er ’ealth. But I guess the climate didn’t agree with 
’er, for they’d only been gone a few months when she 
took sick in earnest, an’ died, an’ was buried in that 
’eathenish country where the people enjoys bull fights. 
Well, master was hall broke hup, an’ ’e stayed away 
two years an’ then came ’ome lookin’ as much like a 
ghost as ’e did like ’imself. That’s hall. Miss Helena, 
that I can tell.” 

Whatever half-formed ideas had been in Helena’s 
mind were dispelled, just as Mr. Bryan had intended. 
Her mother, Gertrude Channing, lying in the church- 
yard in Clydesville, could have no possible connection 
with Gertrude Bryan, buried in far-away Mexico.” 

“ Mr. Belaires must have imagined the resemblance 
after all,” she thought, “ for surely Thomas is a better 
judge in the matter than he.” 

Helena’s reasoning was astray. A resemblance at 
first sight is often detected between two persons which 
will gradually fade by frequent contact. For this rea- 
son Mr. Belaires, never having seen Helena, detected it 
at once. 


170 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

'' I wish I had a photograph of my mother/’ the girl 
mused. How strange there are none in existence. 
If I only had one I would show it to Mr. Belaires and 
ask if it were anything like Mrs. Bryan.” 

It was well for Helena’s peace of mind that none 
could be found ; for anxious as she was to unravel the 
mysterious coincidences of her resemblance to Mrs. 
Bryan, and Mr. Bryan’s fatherly interest in her, she 
would have been miserable had all the inevitable dis- 
closures been made known. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Spring and summer passed ; autumn had arrived. 
Mr. Bryan and Helena were enjoying an unusually late 
dinner, while she was relating to him glowing descrip- 
tions of life in Newport, where she had been spending 
a few weeks in Mrs. Lancaster’s pretty cottage, and 
from where she had that day returned. 

After dessert was served and the servants had with- 
drawn, Mr. Bryan said: Well, my daughter, I am 
very glad you have had such a pleasant time ; glad, in 
fact, that your girlhood days are ending so happily, 
with no serious cause for future regrets.” 

Detecting a sadness in his voice, Helena looked up 
inquiringly. 

This is the twenty-third of the month,” he con- 
tinued. Has the date no significance for you, Hel- 
ena ?” 

The twenty-third ?” she repeated musingly. No, 


\VHAT WOULD TUE WORLD THINK? 171 

father ; I cannot say that it has. Why should it ? 
What ever occurred on that date?” 

‘‘ Your birth, my dear.” 

Yes, I know; but this is September. My birthday 
is not until October.” 

Exactly, on the twenty-third — one month from to- 
day. You will then be twenty-one, and no longer — 
legally speaking — will you be an infant.” 

‘‘ Am I spoken of now as one ?” she asked laughing. 

“Yes, that is the term the courts apply to all per- 
sons under age.” 

“ Well, Tve been a bouncing infant for a good many 
years ; big enough, and strong enough, to completely 
squelch that shrunken little lawyer of yours, who dares 
apply such an undignified name to me. But seriously, 
father, when I’m of age what are you going to do with 
me ?” 

“ Do with you ? that’s not the question. It’s what 
will you do with yourself.” 

“What is your wish in the matter, father? ” 

“ Well, Helena; a fond father’s wishes are usually 
selfish and unreasonable, I know, and few daughters 
seriously consider them ; but I do hope that you will 
remain with me as long as I live. I have missed you 
very much during the last few weeks ; and the thought 
of your marrying some day and leaving me for all 
time is hardly endurable.” 

“ Do you want me to become an old maid, and re- 
main with you all my life ? ” she asked laughingly. 

“ No, not that ; but I feel on the subject the same 
as did one of the world’s most brilliant orators when 
he said : ‘ I cannot part with my daughter, but I do 
not object to receiving a son.’ A happy sentiment. 


1/2 


WHAT WOULt) THE WORLD THINK? 


Helena, and one which his daughter must have ap- 
preciated/' 

‘‘ Well, father dear, I have no wish to leave you — 
the thought is equally painful to me ; and after all 
your kindness, I could not find it in my heart to do so 
even were I inclined." 

I only hope you will always feel so. Remember, 
Helena, you are my only heir ; everything I possess, 
with the exception of some legacies to the servants 
and a few charitable bequests, will go to you, includ- 
ing this house and all its belongings." 

My dear father," returned the girl feelingly, I 
faithfully promise never to leave you. And whoever 
takes me, must be added to my ‘belongings'; or 
rather, he must come where they are, and not they go 
to him. Quite favorable conditions, I should think, 
and," she added smiling, “very much unlike those of a 
poor girl with a whole family for her husband to 
support." 

“Decidedly," he replied, evidently amused; “and 
quite unlike bringing the poor fellow to live with that 
much abused individual — his mother-in-law. But re- 
turning to the subject of your twenty-first birthday ; 
what shall we do to celebrate it ? Now what would 
give you the greatest pleasure ? " 

For several minutes she did not answer, but sat with 
downcast eyes as though in deep thought. 

“ Father," she said at last, “ if you really will permit 
me to celebrate the day in a manner more pleasing to 
me than any other — in fact," she proceeded eagerly, 
“ in a way I have longed for all these years, you will 
let me take a trip back to Clydesville, to see my dear 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 1 73 

old home — the house where my poor mother died — 
and to visit her grave.” 

Mr. Bryan made no reply ; he was greatly surprised 
and disappointed at her request. For years she had 
not spoken of Clydesville, and he had hoped she had 
forgotten the existence of the place. He wondered if 
she still remembered the slanderous tongues, and their 
base insinuations against her mother. The thought 
of her going back there was very disquieting. He 
feared familiar scenes would revive old memories, 
probably long forgotten, and eventually cause the pure 
impressions she now entertained of her mother to 
change. 

I wonder what she remembers and what she does 
not?” he mused. Let me think; do I remember 
any of the events which transpired when I was about 
the age she was when living in Clydesville ?” 

Throwing his mind back to his childhood, Mr. Bryan 
remembered spending a few weeks on a farm one sum- 
mer accompanied by his mother, when he was about 
ten years old, and he was surprised to find how vividly 
events of that time recurred to him without any effort 
to recall them ; more vivid, in fact, than events of 
much more recent date. He well remembered his 
stately mother, whose kindly face and noble manner 
won the respect of all who knew her. He even re- 
membered the gown she wore, and her pained expres- 
sion as well, when he entered her presence one day 
flushed with excitement, dirt-begrimed, and without 
coat or hat, and in triumphant tones related the result 
of a ‘‘ fight ” he had just had with Dick Haskel, a boy 
residing on an adjoining farm. 

My dear mother was greatly shocked at my be- 


174 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK^ 

havior/’ Mr. Bryan mused, “but she somewhat relented 
in her displeasure after hearing the facts of the case, 
although she suggested that in future I should try 
moral suasion, instead of resorting to force.’' 

Dick Haskel was noted thoroughout the neighbor- 
hood for his many evil propensities, among which was 
the robbing of birds’ nests. He was a bad youngster, 
cruel by nature, woefully depraved for his years, and 
not at all susceptible to moral suasion, and Mr. Bryan 
smiled as he remembered the numerous thrashings he 
had given young Dick before he would let the nests 
alone. He also remembered Casper Haskel, Dick’s 
elder brother, another cruel brute, whose own cows 
ran away at his approach as though expecting a blow 
or a kick. Casper delighted in shooting birds, particu- 
larly bright-colored ones, little caring whether or not 
they had a nest of young left to die of starvation. 
Many a time young Bryan wished he were big enough 
to “ lick ” him as well as Dick. 

He remembered their sister Lucinda, an ignorant, 
weak-minded girl, vain as a peacock — except when, like 
the peacock, she looked at her feet — who wore a bright 
wing in her hat with great pomp, and proudly boasted 
that it came from a bird which “ Cas ” had shot. 

The instincts of the child often betray the qualities 
of the mother, and Mrs. Haskel was no exception. 
She was totally devoid of fine feeling or sentiment, and 
not only permitted Dick to tease the dog and cat, but 
allowed him to pull off flies’ wings, to put bumble bees 
in bottles until they died, impale butterflies on pins to 
see them spread their wings, and commit other acts of 
cruelty; she also encouraged Casper in his shooting 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 175 

mania, although she would scream in terror if a gun, 
loaded or unloaded, were pointed at her. 

No wonder I remember those events of my child- 
hood,” Mr. Bryan thought. My mother was a refined 
and cultured woman who taught me the moral to live 
and let live, or at least to not commit or encourage 
wanton acts of cruelty or destruction ; and I often won- 
der if when men and women go hunting, it ever occurs 
to them that those beautiful animals and birds which 
they destroy enjoy life as much as they ? How people 
of any heart can, for mere pastime, hound or shoot 
them down, and boast of their cruelty, is more than I 
can understand. And it is a travesty on our public 
men that one of our Presidents will be more noted in 
history for the fish he has caught, and the ducks he has 
bagged than for his acts of statesmanship.” 

Mr. Bryan moved as though suddenly awakening 
from a dream. ‘‘Helena,” he said, “have you any 
birds’ wings, or birds in any of your bonnets ?” 

The girl looked at him a moment wonderingly, as 
though at a loss to understand his apparently irrelevant 
question, then demurely replied : “ No, father ; but 

perhaps there’s a bee in one of them.” 

“ I wouldn’t be surprised,” he retorted. “^But have 
you any birds ?” 

“ No ; nothing except plumes and tips. But why 
do you ask, father?” 

“ Because,” he returned earnestly, “ I never want to 
see you wear them.” In explanation he told her the 
story of the Haskels, and the impressions his young 
mind had received. 

“ And is that what you have been thinking about?” 
asked Helena, laughing. “ Why, I thought you were 


1/6 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

deciding whether or not to consent to my going to 
Clydesville. I wondered what there was so momen- 
tous about it that it took you so long to make up your 
mind, but it seems you were not thinking of me or of 
my request at all, but of those wicked Haskel boys 
instead.’' 

Rather rude and absent-minded of me, I admit," 
said Mr. Bryan, but we cannot always control our 
thoughts, you know ; they will at times wander, and 
mine for some reason wandered to my boyhood, and 
that train of thought led me on until I quite forgot 
that you were waiting for an answer." 

I’ll forgive you," said Helena, indulgently, if you 
will " 

If our society women would only take the matter 
up," interrupted Mr. Bryan, and refuse to wear birds, 
the custom would soon become unfashionable. Do 
you know, Helena, there are thousands upon thou- 
sands of song birds slaughtered every year to gratify 
this feminine vanity?" 

‘‘ And the destruction will continue," returned 
Helena, until our society leaders and fashionable 
women agree to stop it by refusing to buy them. 
They have only to decree a thing and set the ball roll- 
ing, as it were, and the masses are ready to follow, be 
it in the right direction or in the wrong." 

Very true," was the reply ; and knowing that fact 
as they must, they should be very careful indeed that 
the decrees of fashion are in the right direction before 
the ball is set rolling.’' 

There are many instances," said Helena, where 
prominent society women should take a decided stand, 
and one of them is against the docking of horses' tails. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 1 77 

It is cruel, brutal ; and if our fashionable women 
would not only denounce it, but would positively 
refuse to ride behind a horse having a docked tail, 
docked tails would soon disappear. I have already 
spoken to several of my friends on the subject, and I 
find that our noblest women are bitterly opposed to 
it. But the majority rules, and is selfishly indifferent, 
particularly the shallow, frivolous, and ultra-fashionable 
set, who delight in new fads and extremes. Really, it 
seems to me that women in their indifference to dumb 
animals are as bad if not worse than men.’' 

“ Not worse, surely, and certainly more sympa- 
thetic,” suggested Mr. Byran, but very thoughtless.” 

People have no right to be thoughtless concerning 
such cruel customs,” said Helena. ‘‘ I wish,” she ad- 
ded earnestly, that every man and woman in the land 
would read ‘ Black Beauty.’ It would arouse their 
sympathies in behalf of suffering horses.” 

Yes,” said Mr. Bryan, ^ Black Beauty ’ is a classic, 
and should be among the literature of our schools. I 
have often wondered,” he continued, if the owners 
of horses realize the awful torture they inflict by this 
practice. Is it possible they know that the operation 
requires the use of a knife, and the prompt applica- 
tion of a red hot iron to sear the flesh and prevent the 
poor animal from bleeding to death } I have no 
respect,” he added emphatically, for any man, who 
knowingly subjects his horses to such needless pain.” 

“ I should think,” said Helena thoughtfully, that 
writers would say more on these subjects than they 
do ; they certainly have great opportunities to educate 
those who are blind to their own experiences.” 

‘‘ My dear girl, all people do not reason as you do ; 


1/8 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


they act on impulse, rush blindly into anythmg which 
will gratify their whims and caprice, without a thought 
of the suffering that may be caused by their vanity 
and selfishness. If all the world were like you, my 
child, no such customs as these would exist/' 

Well, father," she replied, after receiving so 
much praise, I can do no less than promise not only 
to never wear a bird or a wing in my hats and bonnets, 
but never to ride behind a horse, or beside a saddle 
horse, having a docked tail. And I will use all my 
influence against these cruelties if you will only say 
that I may go to Clydesville on the twenty-third of 
next month." 

Suppose I say no ; what then ?" 

‘‘Well, even so. I’ll keep my promise just the same 
in behalf of the poor animals. But I’m sure you will 
not say ‘no.’ You will not, will you, father?" 

“ That depends," he returned. 

“ Depends on what ?’’ 

“ On how long you intend to stay away. Will you 
agree to not stay long ? and to not go around renew- 
ing acquaintance with your old neighbors ?’’ 

“ I shall want to see my mother’s friend, Mrs. Mar- 
vin," returned the girl earnestly ; “ but I will only 
stay one day — or two, at the longest. When I left 
Clydesville I disappeared very suddenly, and no one 
there has heard one word from me since. I don’t 
suppose many ever gave me a thought, but I’m sure 
Mrs. Marvin must have wondered many a time what 
ever became of me ; and I am equally sure that she will 
be glad to see me again, and know my fate after all 
these years. How surprised she will be !’’ 

“Well, I suppose I might as well give my consent,” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 1 79 

said Mr. Bryan resignedly, “for when the day comes, 
you will be of age, and I dare say if it were withheld 
you would simply go without it. So I can only say 
yes. But remember your promise, Helena, and only 
be gone two days,” 

Helena was greatly pleased at the prospect in store, 
but Mr. Bryan had many misgivings. He could only 
hope that her memory relative to her childhood was 
not as active as his own. 


CHAPTER XVH. 

The twenty-third of October was a perfect day, 
bright, and warm, with here and there a golden-hued 
cloud to be seen in the otherwise clear sky. Soon 
after the 3.15 p.m. train from New York arrived, the 
lumbering old stage coach bore Helena Byran from the 
railway station at Saxtontown back to the scenes of 
her childhood. Passing through the main thorough- 
fare of the town she observed that the stores and pub- 
lic buildings which then had appeared so tall and 
grand, appeared to her now strangely inferior. 

“How low and odd they look,” she thought. “It 
hardly seems possible they are the same ; but I suppose 
my ideas have enlarged, and these buildings look 
shrunken by comparison.” 

Soon they were passing through the same long 
street where years before she had wandered from door 
to door vainly seeking admittance. These houses re- 
mained unchanged — even to her — except for a more 
weather worn look. No fires had burned the old ones 


l8o WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

down ; no new ones had been erected. How lifeless, 
how dead the old street looked ; not a person was vis- 
ible from one end to the other. As they approached 
the place where tired, hungry and disheartened, she 
had thrown herself by the wayside to rest, she looked 
eagerly through the grimy bit of glass in the stage 
door, while unbidden a tear came to her eye. She 
knew the very spot by the old butternut tree, under 
which she had lain. Time had dealt lightly with the 
tree ; it remained unchanged ; she recognized it at 
once. But the tree, even had it possessed sight, would 
never have recognized in her the little sobbing child it 
had so lovingly sheltered from the sun’s fierce rays on 
that August day twelve years before. 

How well she remembered that day, and how dark 
everything had appeared to her despite the bright sun- 
shine, until the kindly book agent so opportunely 
came along. 

“ Poor man,” she uttered, thinking of Mr. Ruden. 

I wonder how he is — how they all are, and if they 
are prosperous and happy ? How much I owe them ? 
I have never realized it so keenly before. Whatever 
would have become of me only for them, only for 
him ! Probably someone would have returned me to 
Mrs. Hopdyke, else consigned me to the poor house, 
and there I might have remained in ignorance and 
drudgery until my fifteenth birthday, for I never 
would have known the contents of that letter had it 
not been for Mrs. Ruden. They say ‘all’s well that 
ends well ’; and in many respects the saying is true. 
But poor Mr. Ruden ! I cannot help but think of him 
to-day. I suppose he is still struggling with poverty, 
while I — alas ! how thoughtless I have been ; but I 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? l8l 

hope it is not too late yet to show my appreciation of 
all that he and his wife did for me. And when they 
are remunerated, I shall feel that my journey this day 
was not in vain. How old scenes revive old memo- 
ries ; I am glad it is so, otherwise the Rudens might 
eventually have passed from my mind as though their 
existence had been only a dream.’' 

As the stage approached Clydesville, the scene be- 
came more and more familiar, and recollections long 
forgotten were brought vividly to mind. To the right 
just across a rustic bridge spanning the creek, stood 
the red, weather-beaten farm house where Mrs. Asa 
Perkins lived ; the woman who, on the day of the 
auction, had spoken so cruelly against her mother. 

Yes, I remember distinctly,” the girb mused, ‘‘of 
detecting her, with several others, while they were 
rumaging through my mother’s clothing, and of over- 
hearing some malicious remarks concerning a pair of 
long-wristed gloves, a fan, and some pink silk stock- 
ings which they had found. Poor mother ! undoubt- 
edly they recognized her superiority, and that fact, 
together with her better clothes, created jealousy 
among the crude women of the place. Goodness ! 
wouldn’t I be denounced though, far more than my 
mother ever was, if they were to get a glimpse into my 
wardrobe. City people wear what they please, and 
excite no comment except, probably, admiration for 
their taste ; but country folks must dress as their 
neighbors please, or run the risk of being called ‘ stuck 
up,’ and ridiculed accordingly.” 

A little further on, away over to the left on the old 
turnpike road, winding along the base of the hill, she 
recognized the tall red chimneys on Timothy Hop- 


1 82 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

dyke’s house. In one sense all memories of the un- 
happy time passed under that roof seemed like a fad- 
ing dream ; but as the house became more distinct, 
the dream became more vivid and real. 

I would like to know,'’ the girl thought, what 
Mrs. Hopdyke said when she called me and found 
that I had taken French leave ? How she must have 
fumed, and ‘sputtered,’ as Mr. Timothy called it. I 
dare say she vented half her spite on him, poor man. 
If I remember rightly she intended to send Martha to 
school that fall, and keep me at home to help ‘ chore ’ 
and to pare and string all the apples for drying ; but 
I imagine she had to do them herself^ for about that 
time I was very busily and happily engaged in 
visiting and admiring the animals in Central Park 
every pleasant afternoon. That reminds me of the 
book of animals Mr. Ruden gave me. I hope Martha 
enjoyed it, and had one half the pleasure with her 
animals that I had with mine. Parting with the book, 
I remember, nearly broke my heart ; but children’s 
hearts are easily mended, and the real animals soon 
mended mine.” 

On reaching the outskirts of the village Helena left 
the stage, not wishing to attract attention or to excite 
comment by driving to her own home. The sun was 
far in the west, and as the jolting old stage went on, 
she shaded her eyes from its rays, and eagerly looked 
in the direction of two houses, standing a quarter of a 
mile or so away. One was a pretty cottage of no 
mean dimensions ; the other house, which stood on 
the opposite side of the street a few yards further on, 
was an imposing structure for a place like Clydesville. 
.Even the trees surrounding it were more majestic. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 1 83 

towering high above their neighbors. Noble old trees 
they were, although scantily attired in the remains of 
what had been a gorgeous October foliage. 

For several minutes she gazed wistfully, longingly, 
toward the house and the ivy-covered cottage, stand- 
ing almost within its shadow. Both had been dear to 
her in bygone days, and the memory of those bygone 
days made them dear to her still. 

What feelings of sadness come over me with those 
scenes,” she murmured. How forcibly events of 
my childhood come back to me. My poor mother ! 
I can almost see her as she looked then, and I can 
understand something now of how she felt, knowing 
she must die and leave me alone.” 

Crossing a common, she proceeded by a round-about 
path to the churchyard where her parents lay. With- 
out difficulty she found their graves — both marked by 
neat though unpretentious stones — and sat down on 
the ground beside them. 

My dear mother,” she exclaimed softly, I have 
come back to you again, after all these years ! The 
last time I was here ” 

The girl suddenly paused ; her lips compressed. 
‘^Yes,” she continued musingly, ‘Ht was the last time 
— the very last ! I never came again. The next day 
I went to Mrs. Hopdyke’s, and was never in the 
neighborhood after that until the night I ran away. 
In the morning I went past, but it was barely daylight ; 
and in my haste to get beyond recovery, I merely 
paused a moment by the roadside to bid the place 
farewell.” 

Her eyes rested on a spot toward the foot of her 
mother's grave. ^‘Yes,” she muttered, there is the 


184 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


very place where we stood, we children, that moon- 
light night. What strange little creatures we must 
have been ! Whoever heard of children doing a thing 
like that before ? Have I forgotten him ? Ah no ! 
never for one hour ! My little boy husband,’' she 
whispered tenderly, how well I remember his bright 
handsome face. Never will I forget how he looked as 
he lay there sleeping in the dim light when I kissed 
him good bye. Nor will I forget how my poor little 
heart ached at the parting, and the uncertainty in 
store for me. Dear Billy, I have faithfully kept my 
promise ; my twenty-first birthday is not yet passed, 
and I am back, only separated from you by a few 
steps. I wonder if you are thinking of me, and ex- 
pecting me to return ? What if he has forgotten me ?” 

The thought caused a tightening of her lips. But 
no ! I cannot believe it !” she exclaimed. He was 
older than and so earnest, so sincere. There was a 
time long ago, Billy, when I was almost influenced to 
believe that we did not belong to each other, and that 
I must give you up. But the older I grew, and the 
more I thought it over, the more strongly I became 
impressed with the fact that our vows were sacred, 
and that I belonged to you, and you to me. I had 
promised not to mention your name, and I kept the 
promise, but I did not — I could not cease to think of 
you.” 

As the sun was setting Helena arose, and turned to 
leave the churchyard. When near the gate she 
paused to look at an isolated grave, which was newer 
than any of the others and marked by a simple white 
slab. Stepping around to the front she read : In 
memory of Timothy Hopdyke, who went to his long 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 1 85 

rest September loth, 18 — ; aged 55 years, 8 months, 
and 4 days/’ 

** Poor man !” she exclaimed in genuine sorrow. 

How good and kind he was to me ; how I would like 
to see him again. But I hope he is far happier now 
than he was on earth. He surely is at rest, and no 
longer a prey to the continual upbraiding which an- 
noyed him so much. I wonder if his wife ever realized 
how unhappy she made him ? Probably, as is often 
the case, she does now, when too late.” 

From the churchyard she walked slowly to the pretty 
cottage — her old home. Finding the door unlocked 
she went hurriedly in, cautiously closing it behind her. 
The atmosphere was dense and musty ; an odor per- 
vaded suggestive of rats and mice, and the windows 
were obscured by cobwebs. Over the door was a last 
year’s hornet’s nest, while on the floor in one corner 
was a nest of young mice — pink as newborn babies 
and no larger than bumble bees. Their squeaking 
little cry attracted her attention, and she discovered 
them writhing and wriggling about, impatient at the 
delay of the parent mouse which doubtless was off in 
search of food. Opening her hand-bag she withdrew 
some fruit and an untasted sandwich, which she scat- 
tered on the floor around their nest. There,” she 
said, “ you shall have one good meal if you never have 
another ; and I hope for your sakes, you poor little 
hairless things, that no cat, of trap, has caught your 
mother.” 

With feelings similar to entering a long deserted 
tomb, she went to the room where her mother had 
suffered and died. There was the same open fireplace, 
unused since that April night when, sitting on her 


l86 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

little ottoman in front of its glowing embers, she had 
quietly wept for fear her mother would not get well — 
little knowing the end was so near. Opposite was the 
alcove, where her mother’s bed had stood, and where 
only a few hours later she had quietly passed away. 

What strange impressions the girl experienced 
standing in that musty, mouldy room in the early twi- 
light. How vividly the sad events of that April night 
came to her mind, and the grief, and horror, she had 
felt on awaking to find her mother lying beside her 
cold and dead. 

O mother !” she exclaimed ; if you could only 
have stayed with me a few years longer, until I knew 
you better, it seems to me I would have been better 
satisfied.” 

As the darkness came on she bade the place fare- 
well, and walked quickly to the big house ” further 
on — the pride and glory of Clydesville. Her heart 
began to throb ; her breath came fast, but on ascend- 
ing the steps she felt a pang of disappointment 
amounting to nameless dread. There were no visible 
signs of life, no light, no one stirring. No sound of a 
miniature express wagon being drawn over the 
gravelled walks as of yore ; no kite, or rubber balls ; 
no sail boat or locomotive engine, all standing about, 
or piled up in dire confusion on the piazza, as was 
the case the last time she was there. 

No,” she thought, with a tinge of sadness ; those 
things belong to the past, with the little round-headed 
Billy of my childhood. He has no use for kites or 
toy engines now. How I would like to see him once 
more though just as he was then. But why is the 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 1 8 / 
house so quiet ? Suppose they have moved away, 


She hurriedly rang the bell, then waited in suspense. 
But her fears were groundless. In small towns and 
villages old residents like the Marvins — living on an- 
cestral estates — seldom move, or materially change 
their mode of life. Soon her summons was answered 
by a diminutive, elfish-looking servant, who seated her 
in the parlor, than rather volubly began : 

‘‘ My missus, her's taking her tea up in her own room, 
’cause her do not like to take her dinner in the big 
dining-room when her do be alone ; and Mr. Marvin 
he do be away across the sea.” 

Endeavoring to maintain a serious face Helena said : 
‘‘Tell Mrs. Marvin after she has finished her tea, that 
Miss Bryan would like to see her.” Whereupon this 
queer morsel of repetitions vanished to inform her 
“ missus” of the arrival of a guest. 

“ Miss Bryan ?” repeated Mrs. Marvin. “ Who can 
she be ? I know of no one by that name.” 

“ I do conclude, missus, that her do not belong 
around here ; leastwise judging from the way her do 
be dressed, for her do look prezactly like them women 
do look in the fashion books, w’at you do get when 
you do go to town.” 

“ Angevenia,” said Mrs. Marvin smiling, “ will you 
never learn to be less extravagant with your ‘ hers,’ 
and your ‘ do’s.’ Positively, you manage to insert a 
‘ her,” or a ‘ do,’ between almost every other word. 
Do you think it sounds well ?” 

“ To me it do, missus, ‘ cause the lady do be a her, 
and not a him,” returned the incorrigible Angevenia, 
as she glided from the room. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


Mrs. Marvin was the same sweet-faced woman as of 
old, a little more stately, perhaps, but the same lovely 
character. Having finished her tea, she descended 
the stairs, curious as to who her visitor — resembling a 
fashion plate — could be. 

Not long was she kept in ignorance. Without 
ceremony Helena made herself known, and the next 
moment was fondly clasped within Mrs. Marvin’s 
motherly arms. 


» 

CHAPTER XVHI. 

My dear child,” exclaimed Mrs. Marvin tenderly, 

this is indeed a great pleasure, a great surprise, and 
a great relief to see you again when I had long since 
given you up. You little know how I grieved when 
you disappeared so suddenly, and many a night I 
have lain awake wondering where you were, and what 
had been your fate.” 

Helena explained fully the manner of her going, and 
the happy result. Mrs. Marvin was greatly interested 
in her story, and admitted that she was heartily glad 
Helena had not heeded her advice and gone back to 
Mrs. Hopdyke. 

‘‘Yes,” she admitted, “ it was all for the best ; I see 
it plainly now. But had you only let me known of 
your good fortune, what a world of worry and suspense 
it would have saved me.” 

“ I did not consider the importance of it then as I 
would now,” returned the girl regretfully. “ Besides, 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 189 

my father — Mr. Bryan — did not wish me to hold any 
communication whatever with Clydesville. He did not 
realize, I suppose, that anyone here would worry about 
me ; and having resolved to adopt me as his daughter, 
it was his wish that I should forget anything and 
everything relating to the past. Do not blame him, 
dear Mrs. Marvin,” she proceeded eagerly. ‘‘You do 
not know him ; but believe me he is the noblest and 
best of men. I love him very dearly ; no real father 
could have been kinder or better to me, and not one 
in a hundred as kind.” 

“ Was he willing for you to come to Clydesville, 
now ?” 

“ He did not really object, except in so far as my 
being from home was concerned. He knows that we 
cannot control our memories, and that despite his wish 
to the contrary, I have not forgotten that my child- 
hood days were passed in Clydesville ; and knowing, 
as well, that I wished to come, he generously con- 
sented, just as he has done in everything else all my 
life. But, Mrs. Marvin, you evidently are alone ; 
where is — Mr. Marvin ?” 

“ In England ; he went last month, and may not 
return until spring. A brother of his died more than 
a year ago, leaving a valuable estate in chancery to be 
settled, and Mr. Marvin found it necessary to go.” 

“ Then Mr. Marvin is English,” said Helena. “ I 
never knew that. But then, I don't suppose when I 
lived here that I knew an Englishman from a Dutch- 
man, or a Hottentot, for that matter. And you, Mrs. 
Marvin, are you English, too ?” 

“ O no ; Em thoroughly American ; in fact, I am 
a * Daughter of the Revolution.' My paternal grand- 


igO WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

father, Archibald Burton, was an officer in Washing- 
ton's army, and after the war he settled here, where 
my father. Doctor Archibald junior, built this house, 
in which I was born." 

So this estate in reality belongs to you ?" 

“ Yes ; I was my father’s only heir — my brother 
having died in childhood." 

For the moment an old feeling of resentment against 
Mr. Marvin was revived within the girl’s breast. So 
the house and estate belonged to his wife, and yet he 
had obstinately refused her — a poor friendless little 
girl — admission ; and permitted her to go to that ill- 
bred, vulgar woman, as a menial and a drudge. And 
this arbitrary, despotic man was her prospective fath- 
er-in-law. A cheerful prospect, indeed! So far as 
the mother-in-law was concerned it was, to a degree, 
quite another case as Naomi and Ruth," but she 
entertained no such daughterly love for the mother-in- 
law’s husband. 

But," she soliloquized, what need it matter to 
me ? We shall not be compelled to live with Mr. Mar- 
vin. No," she thought with a pardonable feeling of 
pride and malicious revenge ; ^^we shall be quite inde- 
pendent of him. Thank Heaven ! I am no longer the 
portionless, forlorn little creature whom Billy wedded 
that moonlight night. My home and social position 
are both superior to Mr. Marvin’s, and he cannot look 
upon me as under any obligation to him, nor one whom 
he can dictate to and tyrannize over, in a way he has 
no doubt dictated and tyrannized over his wife from 
the day — according to his estimation — that he had a 
legal right to do so." 

Helena did not pose as a new woman;’’ but her 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? IQI 

somewhat progressive, and thoroughly American opin- 
ions were quite up-to-date, and in sympathy with those 
women whose husbands scouted the idea that their 
wives knew anything, and assumed authority to dom- 
ineer over them. 

‘‘ I wish Mr. Marvin were home ; Tm sure he would 
be glad to see you, and to know of your good for- 
tune,'' said Mrs. Marvin quietly. 

The girl smiled a faint response. ‘‘ Mr. Marvin is 
well connected, I believe ?" she remarked interroga- 
tively. 

It occurred to her afterwards that it was a strange 
question to ask a wife concerning her husband. But 
the circumstances were extenuating. As a child ques- 
tions of pedigree never were thought of ; but she was 
somewhat worldly wise now, and naturally felt inter- 
ested, and justified as well, in seeking to know some- 
thing of the family of the man whose destiny she had 
long considered as her own. Not that she had any 
thought of being disloyal to Billy, no matter what his 
father's pedigree might have been ; nevertheless, it 
would be a satisfaction to know that he, as well as the 
mother, was well connected. 

O yes," was Mrs. Marvin's good-humored and 
rather complacent reply. Mr. Marvin is very well 
connected indeed." 

“ Did you become acquainted with him in England ?’’ 
Helena asked carelessly. 

“No; in this country. When quite a young man 
he spent one summer at Colorado Springs in company 
with an invalid brother — the one who has recently 
died. My father and I were there at the same time 
and we became acquainted. Two years later Mr. 


192 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

Marvin came to this country again and we were mar- 
ried. We went directly to England and remained a 
year, during which time I often met with different 
members of his family.” 

Despite Helena’s prejudice, she was gratified to 
know that Mr. Marvin, from a social standpoint might 
be considered an honorable and influential gentleman, 
even although in his own home he was selfish and 
tyrannical. 

Mrs. Marvin suddenly rose. My dear child,” she 
exclaimed ; in my surprise and joy at seeing you I 
have forgotten everything else. But you have had no 
dinner. How thoughtless of me!” 

I think I can do justice to one now/’ replied 
Helena, ‘‘and,” she added laughing, “if I remember 
rightly, the last time I came to you I was hungry — 
hungry as a little bear, having been sent to bed supper- 
less ; and the supper you gave me was the last good 
square meal I had for a long time.” 

“Yes, I remember,” returned Mrs. Marvin, “and I 
promised to give you a drive in the morning after 
breakfast but you preferred a walk — and walked 
away.” 

“ I’ll not serve you that way this time, but will stay 
for breakfast with you if no longer.” 

Mrs. Marvin rang, and soon Angevenia appeared. 
“ Tell Johannah to have some dinner served as quickly 
as possible,” she said. 

“ Missus, I do hate to tell you,” said Angevenia, 
“ but Johannah do not be in, ’cause this do be her 
night off, and her went out prezactly as soon as her 
had got your tea ready.” 

Mrs. Marvin looked dismayed. “ I fear, Helena, 


WHAT WOULD THE WOTLD THINK? 


193 


that you will have to excuse me for a while,” she said, 
and I will see what I can do in the way of dinner.” 

Missus,” continued the undersized servant, “ I do 
know how to make gooder tea than Johannah do, and 
I do conclude there be most a whole cold duck left ; 
and I do know there be most a tureen full of peas 
what’s yet hot, and everything else in accordance. 
And I do know I can get up a nice little supper all 
alone, I do.” 

Well, if you ‘ do know,’ Angevenia,” said Mrs. 
Marvin, be spry and let us see what your best effort 
will ‘ do.’ ” 

What an extraordinary specimen of humanity,” 
said Helena, as the servant fairly flew from the room. 

Where did you get her? and what is she, any way? 
— a child or a woman ?” 

She seems in some ways to be both,” replied Mrs. 
Marvin. She certainly is dwarfed in stature, and 
partly in intellect ; but she is very kind-hearted, and 
obliging, and in many ways quite capable. I’ve not 
had her long ; she only came to supply Bertha’s place — 
my upstairs girl — while she is away for a few weeks. 
But Angevenia likes it here so well, and I feel such a 
sympathy for her, that I intend to keep her right 
along, even after Bertha returns.” 

That reminds me of Miss Nancy,” said Helena. 
You remember her, Mrs. Marvin ? Is she still liv- 
ing?” 

O yes, and goes out doing general housework by 
the day the same as ever. But she is growing old ; her 
face is like parchment, and her hair as white as snow.” 

Is she very poor ?” 

“ No indeed. She has quite a snug little fortune 


194 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


laid away, besides owning the house in which she lives. 
But she can neither read or write, and is only happy 
when at some drudgery. People must have something 
to occupy their minds, you know, and tastes differ. 
Intellectual people can be happy with their own 
thoughts or their books ; but persons of Miss Nancy’s 
calibre can barely exist if alone. They are entirely 
dependent on other people’s thoughts — their own are 
not worth thinking.” 

There are lots of people like her, particularly in 
the latter respect,” said Helena, laughing, '‘who haven’t 
even the excuse poor old Nancy has, for they can both 
read and write, and while they would notice quick 
enough a cobweb on their wall, they fail to detect the 
gathering cobwebs in their brains.” 

Mrs. Marvin went out to see how Angevenia was 
progressing in her new line of duty, and Helena rose 
and walked impatiently about the room. 

" Where can he be ?” she kept asking herself. 
" Why does he not come ? Several times I fancied I 
heard his footstep. Why do I hesitate to ask for him? 
There is no reason why I should, and yet ” 

At that moment Mrs. Marvin re-entered, and an- 
nounced that Angevenia’s " supper ” was ready, and a 
very creditable one at that. The tea was served in lit- 
tle dainty gold cups of rare design. 

"What pretty tea-cups,” said Helena. "I don’t 
think I ever saw any like these before.” 

A pleased look lighted Mrs. Marvin’s face as she re- 
plied : " They are something out of the usual order, I 
imagine. My son brought them to me from Chicago, 
during the World’s Fair.” 

Her son ! The blood surged to the girl’s very tern- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? I95 

pies. She kept her eyes riveted on the cup, not daring 
to raise them. 

‘‘ They are not solid gold,’’ continued Mrs. Marvin in 
a matter of fact sort of way, but gold leaf, I believe, 
plated by some new process on porcelain. But he 
thought they would please me, being souvenirs of the 
Fair.” 

‘‘ ‘ My son,’ thought Helena. He was ‘ Billy,’ 
when I knew him , but I suppose that name was dis- 
carded with his toys.” 

‘‘Helena,” said Mrs. Marvin suddenly, “you surely 
remember my boy, do you not ? — the little Billy you 
used to play with ?” 

“ O yes ; I remember him very well,” she returned, 
trying to speak easily. “ By the way, where is he ? I 
should like very much to see him.” 

The ice was broken at last ; the girl experienced 
a feeling of relief, and with abated breath awaited the 
information so long forthcoming. 

“ He has been home but little for the past eight 
years,” said Mrs. Marvin. “At sixteen he went to 
Yale college, and remained three years. Then five 
years ago he went to New York, and has seldom 
been home since, except occasionally on Saturday to 
remain over Sunday.” 

Billy in New York! and had been for five years! 
That was indeed a revelation to her. “ What is he 
doing there ?” she asked with a show of friendly 
interest. 

“ He is in business for himself on lower Broadway. 
When he first went a friend of Mr. Marvin gave him 
a position in his office ; but he gradually worked his 
way up until now he is a member of the firm. ’ 


196 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 

I wonder if he remembers me ?” 

‘‘ Indeed he does. You have no idea how he 
brooded over your going away as you did. Posi- 
tively, he took the matter very much to heart, and for 
a time was inconsolable. Very often he went over to 
the Hopdykes’ to see if you had returned, or if they 
had heard anything concerning you ; but at last he 
came to me one day, looking very dejected and said : 

Mother, I don’t believe she will ever come back now 
until she is a big girl and is her own boss ; but just as 
soon as she is she will surely come because she prom- 
ised to.” 

Helena laughed. His prophecy was quite cor- 
rect,” she said with a careless air of gaiety. When 
you see him, Mrs. Marvin, you may tell him so for 
me ; and tell him that on the very day I attained my 
legal freedom, or, as he expressed it, became my own 
^ boss,’ I kept my promise and came.” 

“ He will be delighted, I know, to hear from you 
again,” said Mrs. Marvin. I only wish he were here to 
see you ; how surprised he would be. I am very 
proud of my boy,” she continued fondly, and indeed, 
I have good reason to be, for he is in every way 
worthy of my affection.” 

‘‘Did — did your son ever speak of me after he be- 
came older ?” Helena asked hesitatingly, yet with ill- 
concealed eagerness. 

“ O yes ; often. And when he went to college 
almost his last words were : ‘ Mother, if ever you hear 
from Helena, let me know at once : and should she re- 
turn, keep her with you until I can get here, for I’ll 
come on the first train.’ ” 

A flush of pleasure overspread the girl’s face, “ It 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


197 


is pleasant to know that I was so kindly remembered,’* 
she said in an explanatory sort of way. For I assure 
you, Mrs. Marvin, I have often thought of the only 
friend of my childhood, and with the kindliest thoughts 
possible.’* 

After a moment’s silence, she said rather abruptly: 
'' Do you really think he still remembers me ? — has he 
spoken of me since he grew up ? — that is — since he 
went to New York ?” 

I am sure he remembers you, and very kindly, 
too,** returned Mrs. Marvin, although I cannot say 
that he has spoken of you for the past few years. 
But,” she added with a suspicion of apology in her 
tone, that is only because he has been so engrossed 
with business matters, and not because he has for- 
gotten you.” 

The pleased flush suddenly died away from the girl’s 
face ; she felt oppressed, and realized that she was 
wearied with the day’s journey. Ere long she bade 
her hostess good night and retired to her room. Not 
that she wished to sleep, but for the sake of being 
alone. 

So he has not spoken of me for several years,” 
she thought, while a feeling of grief and pain shot 
through her heart. What does it- mean ? Is it 
merely that since reaching manhood he feels delicate 
in speaking of me, or has city life and its associations 
caused me to drop entirely from his mind ? Or, sup- 
pose, since coming in contact with the world and its 
sordid opinions that he views the matter from a 
worldly, or financial standpoint, and remembering me 
only as an obscure little girl whom he would not care 


198 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


now to acknowledge as his wife, attaches no import- 
ance to that childish act and prefers to forget it.” 

After the house became quiet and the inmates were 
sleeping, Helena stole cautiously to the same room 
where she had so cautiously stolen once before. 
There stood the same little bed with its pretty blue 
canopy ; there was the same little pillow where his 
fair head lay when she so carefully, so tenderly kissed 
him good bye. Standing there, she realized that never 
again would she see the Billy of her childish dreams — 
he was absorbed in the man. 

And alas !” she thought, I fear the man has for- 
gotten me. Well, I have been loyal to him all these 
years, and now have returned ; but he is not here.” 

Sinking into a chair she took from her purse a little 
gold ring, and gazed upon it lovingly. When he re- 
moved this from his own finger that night, and placed 
it on mine, he said : ‘Wear it, Helena, until it gets too 
small, then lay it away ; and every time you look at it 
you must think of me, and remember that you are my 
wife.’ ” 

“ The next morning directly after breakfast, Mrs. 
Marvin seated herself at her desk. “ I am going to 
write to Billy,” she said, “and tell him, Helena, that 
you are here. He will receive the letter sometime to- 
morrow, and perhaps find time to run home the day 
after.” 

But Helena strenuously protested against such a 
proceeding. “ Please do not write him, Mrs. Marvin,” 
she said quickly. “ In the first place I cannot remain 
so long; I promised father that I would return either 
to-day, or to-morrow at the very latest. Besides, it 
might inconvenience your son very much to leave his 


WHAT would the world THINK ? I99 

business on so short a notice, and — very likely he is 
not sufficiently interested in me now to care to come, 
that is, on my account only.” 

‘‘You are wrong, I assure you !” was the quick re- 
ply. “ He has always spoken of you in the most 
kindly manner, and been so anxious to know what had 
become of you, and ” 

“ But that was years ago, Mrs. Marvin,” the girl 
interposed hurriedly. “You said he had not spoken 
of me for the last few years, and that proves his boy- 
ish interest in me has ceased.” 

“ But Helena, I promised long ago to let him know 
if you came, or if I heard from you ; and the promise 
still holds good.” 

Helena rapidly considered the situation a moment, 
then stepping to Mrs. Marvin’s side said entreatingly : 
“ Please do not write to him, I beg of you. I have a 
little plan all arranged to surprise him, and if you 
write it will spoil it all, and quite upset the arrange- 
ment. So please, dear Mrs. Marvin, heed me in this.” 

“What is your ‘ little plan?’ ’’Mrs. Marvin asked 
with a doubting smile. 

The girl hesitated a moment, not quite knowing 
how to proceed. Then, as though an inspiration had 
seized her, said : 

“You may write him after all, but let me dictate 
the letter.” * 

“ Very well, what shall I write ?” 

“Tell him,” suggested Helena, “ that a Miss Bryan 
from New York, has been visiting in Clydesville, and 
inasmuch as you have become acquainted with her, 
she has undertaken some little commissions from you 
in which he will be interested. Then request that he 


200 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


call on Miss Bryan at Number — West Fifty-seventh 
Street, next Tuesday evening at eight o'clock, at which 
time she will be expecting him." 

‘‘Anything more ? " 

“ No ; only let me implore you not to intimate in 
any way that Miss Bryan and Helena Channing are 
one and the same." 

“Very well, my dear ; it shall be as you wish," was 
the indulgent reply. “And after Billy has called, you 
must write me a full account of the interview, and tell 
me just what he said when you make yourself known." 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Mrs. Marvin would not listen to her guest return- 
ing home that morning. “You were granted two 
days," she said pleadingly, “ and you must remain 
with me until the limit, and that is far too soon ; I 
shall part with you very reluctantly. But, my dear 
girl, I trust our acquaintance has not been renewed 
for merely a day. I shall expect in future to see you 
often ; and the next time you come let it be for a 
visit, and not a mere call." 

During the morning Mrs. Marvin produced a large 
package carefully wrapped and labeled : ‘^For Helena 
Channing." 

“Helena," she said, “this contains a number of 
relics which belonged to your mother. When she 
died you were too young to be entrusted with them, 
so I laid them away for safe keeping, and I am very 
glad to see them restored to you. Here, also, is your 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


201 


bank book for the balance of your grandmother Chan- 
ning’s account in the Saxtontown bank, which your 
mother handed me before she died, expecting that I 
would look after your interests. Your dear mother 
lived so prudently, and tried so hard to save every- 
thing for you, that after all expenses were paid, there 
still remained in the bank in your name, nine hundred 
dollars; and with the accumulated interest, together 
with the proceeds from your household furniture, 
there is now something over sixteen hundred. Be- 
sides this there is the house and grounds — a very good 
little property in themselves — awaiting your disposal.” 

‘^What about the taxes ? ” asked Helena. 

I have paid them regularly every year, and ” 

‘‘O Mrs. Marvin, how good of you ! I suppose had 
you not, the place would have been sold for unpaid 
taxes long ago.” 

‘‘ Don't give me too much credit,” said Mrs. Marvin, 
frankly. “ I suppose it was done with a selfish motive. 
You see, I feared if it were sold, I might have had un- 
desirable neighbors, and I paid them rather than run 
any such risk. But it was a small matter, not worth 
speaking about ; taxable property here, and in New 
York city, are two different things, you know.” 

After luncheon, Helena went out for a walk and, on 
the same principle that restless spirits are said to 
haunt the scenes of their earthly misery, she instinc- 
tively set out in the direction of Mrs. Timothy Hop- 
dyke’s. 

Yes,” she thought, I would really like to see my 
old enemy once more ; and I shall ask Martha for my 
book of animals — she has kept it quite long enough, 
inasmuch as I have never even looked it through. It 


202 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


will be a keepsake, and (as poor Mr. Timothy would 
say) ‘ ef I ever git to be conceity, an’ big feelin’, or 
sorter stuck up like,’ why that book will be a quiet re- 
minder of less palmy days — days when (as Mrs. 
Winter once told me) I knew more about a mop than 
I did a piano. Well, there’s one consolation : I am 
quite proficient now in the knowledge of both ; but I 
imagine that my knowledge of the former quiet ex- 
ceeds that of any girl of my acquaintance.” 

It was a long two miles to the Hopdyke farm, so 
leaving the village street Helena went cross lots,” 
going through the open fields and meadows, it being 
the much nearer route, and one which would bring her 
to the rear entrance of the farm. But on arriving 
there she found that the old let-down bars had disap- 
peared, and she was compelled to climb over the high 
rail fence — a feat not so easy to perform as it once had 
been. Before her was the great Hopdyke meadow, 
now yellow and seared by the October frosts, but 
which had been filled with tall green grass when she 
had seen it last. 

How grieved and angry I was that day,” she mut- 
tered. I remember very well coming out here and 
throwing myself on the ground to cry my anger off, 
little knowing that Mrs. Hopdyke had done me the 
greatest favor possible in leaving me behind. It w^as 
fortunate, though, that I woke when I did, and returned 
to the house. Had I not, I would have missed Mr. Ru- 
den, and then — well. Heaven only knows what my des- 
tiny would have been.” 

Proceeding as far as the garden, she again paused. 

How familiar it looks,” she thought. There are 
the rernains of this year's cabbages,. and tomato vines, 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 203 

growing on the very same spot as those I was asked to 
protect from the pigs and chickens that day while I sat 
under the apple tree and knitted on a coarse woolen 
sock, which Mrs. Timothy had '‘sot up.” And actu- 
ally,” she exclaimed laughing, " there are the very pigs 
and chickens now ! — but no ! What am I thinking of? 
These are only the progeny of the pigs and chickens I 
knew, and a good many generations removed at that.” 

Over in the corner stood the identical bush under 
which she had dug a hole in the ground to hide her 
jewel case. Passing the smoke house, where Mr. Tim- 
othy’s pigs were converted into hams, she saw that the 
well had a new green pump, in place of the dilapidated 
windlass and old oaken bucket which she had been 
made to fill scores of times. 

"Ah well,” she mused, " I could wander around for 
hours amid these old scenes ; strange to say they fas- 
cinate me. But I must hasten ; my time is growing 
short.” 

Approaching the house from the rear she suddenly 
observed, standing near the back steps, the identical 
rain barrel, apparently, into which she had once fallen 
on " washin’ day,” when getting water for the boiler ; 
and she remembered Mrs. Timothy’s rage because she 
got wet and would have to change her clothes, " an’ 
the b’iler ain’t near full yit,” Mrs. Timothy had said. 
" Marthy ” was told to fill it, and for once she was per- 
fectly willing to do so, and she danced around in high 
glee because " Heleny got a duckin’.” 

The back door was open and, as was the custom 
among the farmers’ wives, Helena went to it and 
knocked. Soon a florid-faced woman appeared^ whose 
sleeves were tucked up beyond her freckled elbows, 


204 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 

and who evidently went about her work with a checked 
gingham sun-bonnet on her head. She eyed her caller 
curiously, as if she were some curiosity. Helena re- 
turned her stare with interest, but could discover in 
her no trace of Mrs. Hopdyke. To her inquiry the 
woman replied : 

The Hopdykses don’t live here no longer, an’ ain’t 
fur quite a spell ; but if you’ll just step in, miss. I’ll 
tell ye all I know about ’em.” 

Helena stepped into the large familiar kitchen and 
sat down on a yellow wooden chair, which the woman 
wiped off with one corner of her blue calico apron. 
She smiled involuntarily as in imagination she pictured 
herself arrayed in one of Martha’s outgrown red calico 
dresses, sweeping the floor, washing the zinc under the 
stove, now and then bringing in an armful of wood or 
a pan of chips from the wood pile in the back yard, 
and so on all day long. A huge boiler of clothes was 
boiling away on the big red-hot stove, filling the room 
with steam of a most offensive odor. 

I guess,” said the woman with a critical look, thet 
you don’t b’long to these parts ?” 

No,” returned Helena briefly. 

You live over to Saxtontown, I reckon ?” 

No ; I never lived there.” 

Be you any relation to the Hopdykses ?” 

‘‘ No ; none whatever.” 

“ Oh ! well then, mebby you live ” 

I live in New York,” returned Helena. • 

‘‘You don’t mean New York city?” 

“ Yes.” 

“You don’t say so! Well then, mebby you’re ac- 
quainted with Phil Yateses wife — her that was Sally 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 20$ 

Gosper. When she was a girl she lived around here, 
but Phil he was too stuck up to be a farm-hand, so 
him an’ her went down to New York to live.” 

“ No ; I never heard of them before,” said Helena. 

How strange ! Well then, there’s Rachel Fletcher; 
she’s a milliner down there somewhere. Do you know 
her?” 

No ; I cannot say that I do.” 

Thet’s kind o’ queer too ! Well, mos’ likely you 
know the Gibbses for sure ? She was Asa Perkinses 
sister an’ she married Matt Gibbs, an’ laws ! I hear 
they’re a puttin’ on lots o’ airs since they went to live 
in the city an’ him a gettin’ sixty dollars a month a 
floor-walkin’ — whatever thet is. Laws knows, I ought 
to know for I does ’nough of it an’ I don’t git no sixty 
dollars a month for it neither.” 

In what part of the city do they live ?” asked 
Helena greatly amused. 

‘‘ Well, I can’t say as to thet, for I didn’t know the 
city was in parts. I thought it was all one thing.” 

Do you know their street ?” 

0 laws!” replied the woman, they don’t live on 
no street at all ; they’re too stuck up for thet. They 
live on one o’ them avenues, though what the differ- 
ence is ’tween a avenue an’ a street is more’n I know. 
What avenue do you live on ?” she asked suddenly. 

1 don’t live on an avenue, I live in West Fifty- 
seventh Street,” said Helena with a quiet smile. 

Oh !” returned the hostess in a tone indicating that 
her visitor had depreciated a degree in her estimation. 
‘"Well,” she continued after a pause, ''the Gibbses is 
pretty well fixed, I expect, an’ can afford to live in a 
pretty good place. I forgit the number o’ their house. 


2o6 


vVHAT V/OULD THE WORLD THINK? 


but it’s somewheres on First Avenue near Eighth Street, 
an’ it’s over a butcher shop. So if you want to go and 
see ’em when you git back home it’s easy ’nough to 
find ’em. But you don’t know ’em you say?” 

‘‘ No ; I can’t say that I do.” 

‘‘ It ’pears to me,” returned the woman ‘‘thet you 
don’t seem to know none o’ your neighbors. Why, I 
knows every one o’ mine for miles round; an’ if I lived 
down where you do I’d know everybody worth knowin’ 
within gunshot o’ the town in less’n no time. There’s 
nothin’ like bein’ in with your neighbors an’ havin’ 
places to go an’ visit an’ stay to supper once ’n a while. 
It cheers a body up wonderful ; besides, the vi’tuals 
tastes better away from home. One gits tired o’ their 
own cookin’ an’ likes a change now an’ then.” 

Just then the boiler of clothes began to boil over — 
the hot foaming suds pouring in streams down the sides 
and over the stove with a hissing sound equal to that 
of a steam engine. The woman grabbed the broom 
handle and gave them a poke, then rather apologetic- 
ally remarked : 

’Tain’t often I gets caught a washin’ this time o’ 
day, ner this time o’ week neither. But Monday I was 
laid up with rheumatiz in my left thigh. Did you ever 
have it there ?” she asked, suddenly. 

Helena shook her head. 

‘‘ Well, you’re lucky. But as I was a sayin’, Tuesday 
I had to go to town with a tub o’ butter thet I’ve 
been keepin’ ever sence June, ’cause prices is higher 
now than they was then ; and Wednesday I done up 
the week’s bakin’, an’ this mornin’ I done the churnin’’ 
an’ so this afternoon there was no help for it but to 
wash. But I guess mebby you’d better step into the 


WHAt WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 20/ 

front room. I don’t mind the smell o’ the suds my- 
self ’cause I’m used to it ; but I dare say it ain’t very 
sweet smellin’ to you.” 

Helena quite agreed with her and, glad to escape 
from the dense and rather pungent fog, followed the 
woman into the front room which was so dark after 
coming in from the bright sunlight, that she had to 
stand still until the woman rolled up one of the green 
paper shades, not daring to take a step for fear of 
knocking something over. 

Excuse me for mentionin’ it,” said the woman 
directly Helena was seated ; but I must say thet 
dress o’ your’n is ’bout the slickest get up I ever seen ; 
I wouldn’t mind havin’ one like it myself. Would you 
object, miss, to tellin’ me how much it cost a yard an’ 
how many yards it took ?” 

I really don’t remember, madam,” returned Hel- 
ena ; but my impression is that the material was not 
at all expensive. It’s only a storm serge, suitable for 
roughing about in.” 

^^Well then, it’s just exactly what I need, for I’m 
always a ‘ roughin’ about.’ O yes,” she continued, 
examining the material between her thumb and index 
finger, come to see it real close it does look kind o* 
cheap an’ coarse — somethin’ like the homespun cloth 
thet my grandmother used to weave on the old loom. 
But then the makin’ of it is jest tiptop. Did ye do it 
all yourself ?” 

No ; I had nothing to do with it. My tailor 
attended to that.” 

■ ‘‘Your what? — I thought tailors didn’t do tiothin’ 
*cept make men’s clo’es ?” 


2o8 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


‘'There are ladies’ tailors as well/’ said Helena, en- 
deavoring to restrain a smile. 

“ Well, if thet don’t beat all ! Men a makin’ 
w’omen’s dresses ! an’ cuttin’ an’ fittin’ ’em too. Laws 
me ! You ain’t got no pattern of it, then, I s’pose ?” 

“ No ; I have not.” 

“ O if thet ain’t too bad ! I was jest a thinkin’ thet 
when you got home mebbe you’d lend it to me for I 
cuts an’ fits all my own clo’es.” 

Helena judged as much from their appearance, but 
she did not say so — remembering that even the truth 
is not best spoken at all times. 

“ I would like real well,” the woman resumed, “ to 
have thet pattern. Ye see,” she said in an explana- 
tory way, “ there’s a woman lives around here thet 
tries mighty hard to outshine everybody else in the 
way o’ dress. Her name is Arabella Caper, an’ she’s 
as full o’ capers as her name is. She’s a grass widder, 
too, an’ pretty good lookin’, which makes it worse. 
She used to go round doin’ dairy work ; but she got 
tired o’ thet, so off she went, goodness knows where 
to. An’ laws ! sence she come back a few weeks ago 
with a lot o’ fine fixin’s, she’s too big feelin’ to know 
common folks at all. Goodness knows how she got 
’em all. But with all of ’er toggery she ain’t got no 
dress skirt like your’n is with them big folds a runnin’ 
down the back of it. But I must say Arabella’s Sun- 
day hat looks a good deal like your’n does. My man 
says I can have all the butter money to do with as I 
like ; an’ nothin’ would suit me better’n to buy a silk 
dress an’ have it made like your’n. Ye see (excuse 
my plain speakin’ but) the folks around here wouldn’t 
think one o’ them 3torm serges of much account ; 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 20g 

they don’t think nothin’s any great shakes ’cept it’s 
silk or satin. So if I could get a new silk dress an’ 
have it made jest like your’n, sleeves an’ all, an’ go to 
meetin’ some Sunday with it on, my ! But wouldn’t 
the folks stare. The Widder Caper in partic’lar.” 

When I return home,” said Helena, “ I will send 
you a pattern by mail, as near like this as possible.” 

‘Wou’re wonderful kind, I’m sure,” said the wom- 
an, but I hate to put you out any,” and she added 
dubiously, I hope you won’t have to buy it ; though 
mos’ likely you can borrow it from somebody.” 

Helena laughed. I’ll attend to that,” she said. 

And now I wish you would tell me where Mrs. Hop- 
dyke is.” 

O yes, the Hopdykses ! I’d forgot all about ’em ! 
Well, poor Timothy was a good soul, but he wasn’t 
quite up to his wife in ways o’ managin’; an’ he took 
to spec’latin’ an’ the more he spec’lated the worse off 
he got. An’ then the lightnin’ struck his barn an’ 
burned it to the ground, right after harvestin’ too, 
when all the crops was in ; an’ him havin’ no insur- 
ance on it it come pretty hard on him. Then their 
girl Marthy, she didn’t turn out well no how ; and 
finally she run away with a young squirt of a sewin’ 
machine agent thet used to travel through here. I 
guess she must’ve got stuck on the big di’mond in his 
b’iled shirt front. Timothy tookit to heart wonderful, 
an’ got kind o’ down-hearted, an’ then everything 
seemed to go wrong, an’ at last be had to sell the farm, 
an’ so my man bought it. Then Timothy tried to pull 
himself together again an’ he done some more spec’- 
latin’, an’ thet settled ’im. Then he was took sick an’ 
died, an’ Mrs. Timothy she’s a livin’ with the Widder 


210 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


Peters, over in thet shanty beyond the school house 
around the bend/' 

And is Mrs. Hopdyke left really destitute ?" Helena 
asked anxiously. 

^^Well, pretty nigh, I reckon. Of course she's got 
'er feather bed an' 'er pillers an' some beddin', an a 
couple o' chairs an' a kitchen table an' some dishes an' 
a lot o' other truck besides the clo'es on 'er back. 
But laws me ! she can’t eat none o' them ; an' only 
for the Widder Peters I don't know what she'd do. 
An' the worst of it is she's got poor health lately an’ 
is kinder crippled up with rheumatiz so she can’t do 
'nough work to earn 'er salt, an I guess the Widder 
Peters needs all the salt she’s got for ’erself.” 

Helena rose to go, but this exceedingly voluble 
woman followed her out to the gate, eager to tell all 
she knew. 

I've heard say," she remarked while walking down 
the narrow path, that Mrs. Timothy won’t allow 
she's got rheumatiz ; she calls it ‘ gout,' thinkin’ thet's 
a more highferlutin' name for it, but I’ve heard tell 
she never lived high 'nough to get gout. They do 
say she was awful near, an' stingy, an’ used to use 
skimmed milk on the table so’s to save every speck o' 
cream to make butter with an' then sell the butter." 

It’s false !" returned Helena indignantly. “ I 
know something about that matter myself, for I once 
lived with Mrs. Hopdyke several months." 

With feelings of deep solicitude for her old enemy 
in her downfall, she walked rapidly away, the woman 
looking after her until she disappeared around the 
curve. 

I’d jest like to know/' the woman muttered, if 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


21 1 


she'll do somethin' for Miss' Timothy? Laws knows, 
I give 'er hints 'nough. We ain't got nothin' to give ; 
we need all we've got for ourselves an' more too. 
We've been land-poor ever sence we took this 'ere 
farm on our hands, an' it's took every cent we could 
rake an' scrape to build the new barn an' keep the 
fences mended, an' pay for hired help, an' broke 
mowin' machines to say nothin' about the interest on 
the mortgage." But if she can afford to hire her 
dresses made instead o' makin' 'em herself why, she 
she can jest do somethin' for Miss' Timothy's well's 
not. But landy sakcs alive ! them clo'es o' mine'll 
b'ile dry. It's lucky I washed up everythin' to-day, 
fer if I git thet pattern I'll let the washin' lay over 
next week' an' go to Saxtontown instead an' buy thet 
silk dress ; an' then I'll keep all the doors shet, an' 
the window curtains down, so folks'll think I ain't to 
home, so they won't come a visitin', an' then I'll jest 
pitch in an' git thet dress done against Sunday week. 
An' then won't I come it over the Widder Caper in 
great shape ? I bet I’ll teach her afore I'm done with 
her not to be makin' eyes at my man agin !" 


CHAPTER XX. 

The shanty over beyond the red school house 
around the bend," was a rudely constructed board 
house containing only two rooms, and was a typical 
illustration of nature unadorned. Never had it known 
a coat of paint, a set of shutters or a change of shin- 


212 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


gles. When it rained the dish-pan was placed on the 
floor in one corner to catch the drops as they came 
through the roof, the tin wash basin in another, while 
various other receptacles were scattered about here 
and there, according to the fierceness of the storm. 

The kitchen, the largest room of the two, was where 
the occupants cooked and ate, and sat, and lived. A 
grimy, cheerless room it was, with its floor of rough 
hemlock boards, worn in places almost through, and 
dotted with big knot-holes, into which plugs of wood 
or old rags had been stuffed to prevent the rats from 
coming up. The only thing in the carpet line to cover 
its nakedness were two ungainly looking mats, made 
from different colored rags, which had been torn into 
narrow strips and sewed together, then braided and 
made into oval shaped affairs. The ceiling and low 
slanting rafters still bore traces of whitewash, but 
were now blackened by smoke and time. There being 
no cupboard, these same blackened rafters were adorned 
with different cooking utensils, such as skimmers, dip- 
pers, spoons, pots, kettles and pans and this miscel- 
laneous array of tinware was the only thing in the line 
of ornament of which that side of the cheerless room 
could boast. On the wall opposite, however, several 
bright colored pictures were hanging, fastened to the 
wall by small nails or carpet tacks. One was the famil- 
iar advertisement of a certain brand of sarsaparilla ; the 
other, that of a well-known soap ; while the remaining 
one, advertised an oil, or liniment, for the ‘‘positive 
cure of carbuncles, bruises, or burns.’' But conspicu- 
ous above all, as though in the place of honor, was a 
motto worked in fancy wools, on perforated cardboard, 
reading: “ God Bless Our Home.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 21 3 

And in this wretched abode Helena found Mrs, 
Hopdyke. No wonder the poor woman had rheu- 
matiz/' The only wonder was that she were living 
at all. The day being warm, the front door was open, 
and she was sitting in the doorway in a large Boston 
rocker — once poor Timothy’s chair — her rheumatic 
ankle bandaged and resting on an ottoman, improvised 
by putting a pillow on an upturned soap box. 

Mrs. Peters was out in the back garden gathering cat- 
nip, and Mrs. Timothy sat dozing in her chair in the 
warm October sunshine. Helena approached unheard. 
For a few moments she stood in the doorway taking 
rapid note of the situation in all its crude details, her 
expression becoming more and more serious. She 
realized that bad as it was, she saw it at its best, owing 
to the bright warm day. Mrs. Timothy was woefully 
changed ; her once rugged features were pinched and 
wan, and she looked so forlorn, so miserable, that a 
look of deep compassion came to the girl’s face, and 
all thought that she might once have entertained of 
any little malicious revenge, immediately took flight. 

‘‘Poor woman,” she murmured; “how old and 
feeble she looks ; how friendless, how deeply in need 
of sympathy.” 

Anxious to avoid startling her suddenly, Helena 
went back a short distance, then returned, stepping 
heavily on the wooden door step. As she anticipated, 
Mrs. Hopdyke opened her eyes, and in a moment was 
wide awake. Helena spoke to her gently, then ad- 
vancing into the room drew a rickety chair beside her 
and sat down. When Mrs. Hopdyke had recovered 
from her surprise on beholding a strange visitor, 
Helena quietly made herself known. For a moment 


214 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

the revelation deprived the woman of the power of 
speech, and almost took away her breath. 

“An* so you are really Heleny Channin* !’* she ex- 
claimed at last. “ Well, if this ain’t the biggest sur- 
prise I ever had in all my life. I declare, it does beat 
all how handsome you’ve growed, an’ what a fine lady 
you have got to be ! An’ so you got way down to 
New York city, an’ found your mother’s folks ; well ! 
well ! well ! Heleny,” she continued in a remorseful 
tone, “ I’m ’fraid I used to be a little too hard on you 
— poor Timothy said I was, an’ I guess Timothy was 
mostly right in everything he said an’ done, ’cept 
spec’latin’, an’ he would do that in spite of all I could 
do or say. Poor man, he’s lyin’ over in the grave- 
yard now, an’ I’m left alone, an’ friendless, an’ penni- 
less — me that worked so hard, an’ was so savin’, an’ 

” The tears rolled down her sunken cheeks, and 

sobs for a time checked her utterance. 

“ Heleny, I didn’t mean to abuse ye,” she continued 
as soon as she could speak ; “but I was one o’ them 
* thrifty, drivin’ kind, an’ I guess I overworked you a 
little without realizin’ it. Timothy said I did. Poor 
man, he was wonderful fond o’ you, an’ wonderful cut 
up when you took yourself off as ye did. He worried 
about it a good bit ; an’ up to the very day he died, 
he was a wishin’ to know ‘ what’d become o’ Heleny.’ 
I wish he was here now to see for hisself ; he’d be 
wonderful glad to know how lucky you’ve been — a 
good deal more lucky than him or me ” 

Again she broke down and sobbed aloud. Her 
mind went back to the old farm house, so big, and 
clean/ and airy ; with its high ceilings, its light-papered 
walls and grained woodwork, so unlike the smoky 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 21 5 

rafters of the miserable shanty where see was now. 
Timothy was there, alive and well, and Martha was 
there, and the sewing machine agent was unknown. 
Thoughts of those days, forever gone, overcame her 
entirely, and her sobs and moans were pitiful to wit- 
ness. Greatly affected at the sight of her grief, Helena 
stepped into the yard, and going around to the side of 
the house, walked up and down the path among the 
leafless lilac bushes thinking of Mrs. Timothy’s de- 
plorable condition. 

Poor creature!” she mentally exclaimed. ^^To 
think that she should come to this. She was not as 
cruel to me after all as in my childhood I imagined. 
She never actually struck me, nor was I in any way 
really harmed. In any event her very treatment was 
my salvation. Had she been more gentle and consid- 
erate, I probably would have remained with her until 
I was fifteen ; and goodness ! what an ignorant 
awkward girl I would have been long before that ! A 
beautiful specimen, indeed, to have presented myself 
to Mr. Bryan. A great credit I would have been to 
my dear mother.” 

On returning to the house Helena found Mrs. Hop- 
dyke drying her eyes with one corner of her white 
apron. 

Mrs. Hopdyke,” she began hesitatingly, I feel 
very sorry to find you in such reversed circumstances, 
and if you will accept a favor from me, I shall be in- 
deed pleased and gratified. You remember the house 
where my mother and I lived ? It stahds there vacant, 
year after year, doing no one any good. It"s a rather 
commodious house, too, very convenient, and exceed- 
ingly pleasant ; and, if you will, you are at liberty to 
go there and remain as long as you live, and take Mrs. 


2i6 


WllAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


Peters with you ; you will need some one, and it will 
be a blessing to her, I should think, to get away from 
this rookery. Besides, I understand she has been a 
very good friend to you, and it will enable you to 
return in a measure her kindness.” 

Mrs. Timothy opened her mouth in wonder, but 
Helena hurriedly proceeded : The place will want 
cleaning and some repairs, perhaps ; and here are a few 
dollars to arrange for all that, also to help you to 
move and to buy anything necessary. And I will see 
that you do not want for anything in future.” 

Surprised and overjoyed at the girPs generosity, her 
tears fell afresh ; and in the midst of her joyful ex- 
clamations, Helena quietly withdrew, and hurrying 
back to Mrs. Marvin’s arrived in time for a late dinner. 

O Missy Bryan ! ” exclaimed Angevenia delight- 
edly, as she entered the hall, I do be so glad you’ve 
come! Missus her do be so worried ’cause you did be 
out so long. Her do be walking now from one end of 
the room to the other ; and her do be looking out at 
both windows at each end, ’cause her did not know 
prezactly which way you did be gone. And dinner do 
be waiting — it do not be supper to-night, it do be a 
regular dinner, ’cause you do be here.” 

The next morning Helena returned to New York, 
feeling somewhat older than she had two days before. 
Not physically, not mentally ; but she felt that her 
experiences were widened by the contact and the im- 
pressions received during those two days. 

On entering her own luxurious home where every- 
thing which met her gaze was not only rich and valu- 
able, but which bespoke the refined taste of a connois- 
seur, from the humblest water color or etching to th^ 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 21/ 

famous masterpieces of art, her mind reverted to that 
kitchen, parlor, and dining-room all in one, in the old 
wood-colored shanty, with its blackened old timed 
tinware, its flaming advertisements and anomalous 
motto tacked to the whitewashed walls. She looked 
upon the beautiful carpets, the rugs, and rich lace 
curtains, a dream in themselves, and thought of that 
rough bare floor with its stuffed rat holes, its two ugly 
mats, and the piece of white muslin — once a pillow 
case— shirred on a string, and fastened across the low^er 
sash of the only window the room contained. She 
looked at the voluptuous sofas, the chairs and luxur- 
ious Turkish lounges scattered about, and thought of 
the three rickety chairs with their daubs of black paint. 
And noticing with peculiar interest the many evidences 
of comfort and elegance which surrounded her and 
without which she would have barely existed, in con- 
trast to the wretched condition of those two forlorn 
women with hardly enough to eat and wear and with 
a dilapidated roof over their heads, she was led to ex- 
claim : Alas ! how little one half the world knows 

how the other half lives.*' She might safely have 
added : And much less does it care." 

1 am glad I went," she soliloquized. Otherwise 
I would not have realized that such places exist ; and 
my going will not have been in vain. My experience 
shall be the means of bringing some comfort, and, I 
trust, happiness, to more than Mrs. Hopdyke. Besides, 
I suppose, it is well to know something of the other 
side of life, and just such an experience was necessary 
to open my eyes and arouse my sleeping sympathies." 

The girl's ideas of life were limited to that phase of 
it where almost every wish was gratified ; and that 


2i8 what would the world think? 

hovel home had seemed to her the very depth of 
poverty and degradation. And yet, right in her own 
city, almost (as Mrs. Hopdyke’s successor would have 
tersely put it) within gunshot of her home, were 
far darker phases of life, of whose existence she had 
vaguely heard from some of her friends who had been 
through the slums ; and which, by comparison, would 
have made the shanty around the bend '' seem a sort 
of paradise. Had she walked on a hot day, or a cool 
one either for that matter, on Essex Street or Ludlow, 
between Grand Street and Canal, and only traversed 
the one block, her contracted ideas of the other 
side of life would have immediately expanded. 

I took that walk one day, with my eyes wide open 
in wonder and loathing. But no matter how great my 
astonishment, it was compulsory, from a healthful 
standpoint, that my mouth be kept securely closed, 
and my nostrils too. And yet, the human mass resid- 
ing there, thick as swarming flies, live, and thrive ; 
and, as if their one ambition were the propagation of 
the species, devote all their energies to reproducing 
themselves. They live in a world of their own, as 
little affected by outside influences as if removed from 
them by thousands of miles. And yet, some of them 
apparently enjoy life, because, I suppose, they have 
no conception of anything better — of anything be- 
yond — happy in their ignorance, and in their squalor. 

Perhaps for them it is better so. They cannot 
improve their condition while the social order is in the 
hands of the rich, and wealth is the basis of power. 
Discontent is the keynote of progress ; but the 
unhappy condition of the poor would only be accentu- 
ated by a proper realization of their misery, and happi- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 2ig 

ness, after all, may not depend so much on where we 
are, or what our surroundings, as it may on what our 
education and past associations have been. 

As soon as the necessary formalities were attended 
to, the long standing Channing account in the Saxton- 
town bank was closed, and eight of the sixteen hun- 
dred dollars surprised and gladdened Mrs. Timothy 
Hopdyke’s lonely heart and brought to her many a 
comfort long unknown ; and to Mrs. Peters as well — 
the good Samaritan in her distress, for like the widow 
of olden time, she had divided the last morsel of 
meal ” with her friend. 

The same mail which took the registered money 
package to Mrs. Hopdyke, took to her successor in the 
old farm house the much-coveted pattern, which was 
to assist her in eclipsing the ‘‘Widder Caper.'* 

A few weeks later a portion of the remaining eight 
hundred dollars was invested in lumber and shingles 
to complete a new home in the far west where the 
Rudens lived. Mrs. Ruden also bought a new dress 
for herself, a new cloak for Annie, paid the last install- 
ment on her sewing machine, and still was enabled to 
put the larger part of the eight hundred dollars aside 
for a rainy day." 

‘‘What a Godsend it is to us John, isn’t it ?" Mrs. 
Ruden said to her husband in a grateful tone, and with 
kindly remembrance of the child entertained under 
their roof like an “angel unawares." “Yes, she re- 
sumed, “ it couldn’t have come in a better time ; right 
when we are so cramped for money, and a cold winter 
coming on, and the house not finished. I declare, it’s 
like ‘bread cast on the waters, returning after many 
days’ with a vengeance, isn’t it? But who would have 


220 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


thought such luck was in store for that little Helena 
— what was her other name John ? She only speaks of 
herself as the little Helena, whom we so kindly cared 
for, and signs ' Helena Bryan/ But that was not her 
name then.” 

I don’t remember, Lucy; I never was good at re- 
membering names,” returned Mr. Ruden, and I never 
thought of her except as ^ little Helena.’ But,” he 
added earnestly, I shall never forget her. I took to 
her somehow as I never took to any other child except 
Annie.” 


CHAPTER XXL 

It was just half past seven by the clock on the man- 
tel in Helena’s boudoir on the Tuesday evening that 
Mrs. Marvin had requested her son to call on Miss 
Bryan at eight. Having finished dinner, Helena re- 
turned to her room and was rather curiously, perhaps 
impatiently, awaiting the time. Only one half hour 
longer,” she mused, and then I shall see Billy again.” 
Suddenly the outside bell rang, and a moment later a 
servant announced that a young gentleman was down 
stairs wishing to see her. 

He didn’t give any card, nor any name,” said the 
servant, ^‘and he wouldn’t go in the parlor: so he’s 
waiting in the hall.” 

With a slight uplifting of her brows Helena began 
descending the stairs, secretly wondering why he had 
called so far in advance of the time specified. But on 
the very last step she paused ; an indescribable feeling 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


221 


taking possession of her. Her guest was not seated in 
the reception chair, but stood leaning with his back 
against the door, his hat in one hand, and his cane (the 
latter with the inevitable crook) in the other. His hair 
was parted in the middle, and carefully brushed ; his 
mustache skilfully waxed and pointed. A silk hand- 
kerchief, elaborately embroidered in colored silks, 
stuck jauntily out of his pocket, while a large yellow 
chrysanthemum adorned the lapel of his coat, and 
a heavy perfume, which evidently emanated from his 
exquisite person filled the room. On seeing Helena 
hesitate, he stepped forward with a sweeping bow. 

Have I the pleasure of addressing Miss Bryan ?’' 
he asked. 

I am Miss Bryan,” she said in a low voice. 

Ah ! I have called at my mother’s request to see 
you this evening,” he said, and — er — I assure you. 
Miss Bryan, I feel highly honored — in — having been 
thus commissioned.” 

‘^Yes, I know; I was expecting you,” she replied 
hurriedly. Please come in and sit down.” And in a 
dazed sort of way she preceded him into the drawing- 
room, he following with a swaggering air. 

So my mother wrote you that I would call ?” he 
said interrogatively. 

No ; but she told me so when I saw her.” 

O indeed. She mentioned having met you, and 
was much pleased in having made your acquaintance. 
Ah! Really this is comfort!” he said with a broad 
smile, as he sank nearly out of sight in a big stuffed 
chair, and began to gaze admiringly about. But 
really,” he resumed, tugging at a heavy gold watch 
chain, I only intended to call for a moment, just to 


222 WIIAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

please mother, as I had a pressing engagement down 
the Avenue. But your kind invitation, Miss Bryan, 
to come in was too tempting to be resisted, so here I 
am and I am very glad, I am sure '' — giving her a 
meaning look — that I was persuaded to come.'' 

Helena made no reply. A dumb feeling lay at her 
heart. It seemed almost incredible that the ideal of 
her life had developed into this swaggering, superfi- 
cial would-be dude. Everything he said appeared 
meaningless, and she could scarcely find voice to con- 
verse with him, such a revulsion had taken place 
within her with the sudden awakening from her long 
dream. Observing her abstracted manner, and be- 
ginning to feel that he had already worn out his wel- 
come and was not properly appreciated, he made a 
move as though to go. But thinking of his mother, 
she made an effort for her sake, to treat him at least 
civily — she could not for the life of her do more. She 
realized that even a friendship (purely for the mother’s 
sake) between herself and this conceited individual 
would be impossible. 

With a vain attempt at a friendly smile, she said : 
‘‘ Do not be in a hurry. I — that is — your mother and 
I, are such very good friends, that I had hoped 
you ” 

She stopped abruptly, unable to add another word, 
or to make her meaning clear. Her cheeks had 
flushed ; she felt quite unlike herself. His very look 
— a look intended to be effective — had produced an 
entirely different result, and aroused a feeling of prej- 
udice and dislike. 

Perhaps her prejudice was ungrounded — unwar- 
ranted, It was not so much because of anything he 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 22^ 

had said or done, as it was that he was not what she 
had expected him to be ; and she could not forgive 
him for so cruelly disappointing her. Having formed 
this impression she could discover in him no redeem- 
ing qualities, and his every act, his every word, only 
prejudiced her the more. 

Again he leaned back in his chair. “ I am delighted, 
really,'’ he began, to know of the friendship existing 
between you and my mother. I never knew of it un- 
til quite recently ; in brief, I don’t remember of her 
ever speaking of you until within the past few days — 
so strange too,” and he bestowed upon her another 
of his languishing glances. How long have you 
known my mother. Miss Bryan ?” 

‘‘ I have known her for a long time ; I cannot just 
say how long,” she replied nervously, heartily hoping 
that he had forgotten Helena Channing. 

Ah yes,” she thought with almost a gasp, I sin- 
cerely hope he has forgotten that moonlight night, 
and the kiss he gave me. It would almost seem like 
sacrilege for him, as he is now, to remember it. And 
I wish, oh ! how I wish, that he might never know 
who I am. But that is out of the question — his 
mother will tell him if I do not. Well, she may — I 
cannot.” 

It seems to me very odd, don’t you know,” he re- 
sumed, ‘‘that having known my mother so long, that 
she has never spoken of you to me before. But you 
remember the old saying. Miss Bryan, ‘ better late 
than never ’; and I trust,” he proceeded with a bow 
and a smile, “ that a little, if only a very little of the 
friendship you feel for her, may be extended to her 
only son.” 


224 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


His affectation was offensively familiar ; but she 
struggled hard to conceal her disgust in the thought 
that this would be his last and only call. In her 
heart she was longing to have him go ; she wanted to 
be alone and in silence mourn over the mere ashes of 
her dead. 

Has my mother ever mentioned me to you, Miss 
Bryan ?’' he asked abruptly. 

0 yes,” she returned quietly. I have heard her 
speak of you a number of times.” 

1 suppose,” he resumed good-naturedly, that 
like all fond and ^doting mothers, she is wonderfully 
wrapped up in me with all my faults.” 

Helena remembered Mrs. Marvin’s feelings on that 
subject, and how she had said : My son is in every 
way worthy of my affection.” Well,” she thought, 
she is his mother — I am not. She cannot see his 
faults — I can. To her, his manners may seem perfect ; 
but to me, his lack of culture, and his glaring vulgarity 
is painfully evident.” 

Now, Miss Bryan,” he said, fumbling through his 
pockets first one then the other, I think I’ll speak of 
that little matter that mother requested me to men- 
tion, before I forget it. But really ! why, really, this is 
strange ! I cannot find the paper. I was sure I had 
it with me ; but I must have left it at home after all. 
And in that case,” he continued with a bland smile, 
'' I shall be compelled to call again — a great pleasure 
to me, I assure you, and, I trust, agreeable to you as 
well.^^” 

What paper do you refer to, Mr. Marvin ?” she 
asked wonderingly. 

With a quick look of surprise, he said briskly : I 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? ^ 2 ^ 

came away in such a hurry this evening that I also 
forgot my cards, and you appear to have gotten my 
name wrong ; and yet, knowing my mother, you 
surely know me — er — that is, my name/' 

She looked at him blankly, as though not compre- 
hending. '' Gotten your name wrong?" she repeated. 
“ Is not your name " 

My name is Higley — Myron Higley, at your ser- 
vice. Surely, Miss Bryan, you are not mistaken 
in " 

The blank look had vanished ; her face lighted, and 
with another revulsion of feeling she laughed outright, 
nervously, almost hysterically. 

‘^Pardon me," she said, but I have made such a 
stupid blunder. My friend, Mrs. Marvin, has also 
requested her son to call this evening at this hour, and 
the two cases being so identical in many respects, 
that naturally I took it for granted you were he 
and — 

O yes, I see," he interrupted with a loud laugh. 
‘‘ That’s a good joke on — er — me. Quite a natural 
inference, indeed ! Well, I called in regard to that 
petition for the — er — well, I believe the upshot of it 
all is, it’s the ^ New Woman Movement,’ or something 
of the sort. Really, I suppose, I ought to be ashamed 
to admit it, but I have not yet read the petition 
through, so I am not very well posted. My mother 
wrote it, though ; I know that much. Mother is a 
very capable woman," he proceeded with a glow of 
pride, and very public-spirited. She is all enthusiasm 
over the coming election, and is very anxious to se- 
cure your signature to the petition. She would have 
called herself, but owing to the pressure on hand just 


226 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


now, she has deputized me to relieve her to a certain 
extent !’' 

As Mr. Higley, he suddenly rose several degrees in 
Helena's estimation, and she decided, that when he 
became older, wiser, and less egotistical, he might be a 
very nice young man after all. 

His mother is certainly a lady," she mused ; and 
how a son of hers, any more than a son of Mrs. Marvin, 
could turn out to be otherwise than a gentleman, would 
be incomprehensible." 

Mrs. Higley, the mother of this hereditary phe- 
nomenon, was a rather strong-minded woman, and very 
pronounced in her convictions and opinions. She be- 
longed to several well-known organizations throughout 
the city, political and otherwise, and was a prominent 
member of the Woman's Press Club," where Helena 
had met her only two weeks before, at one of their Sat- 
urday afternoon teas. Helena, of course, was not a 
member of that well-known literary club, but she was 
there by invitation as the guest of the presiding club 
hostess ; and, having been introduced to Mrs. Higley, 
after a little friendly chat, that very enterprising 
woman straightway broached the subject of Woman 
Suffrage," her pet hobby. Helena's affable promise to 
consider the matter, accounted for young Higley's un- 
timely call. 

A little ormolu clock in the extension struck eight. 

It is unfortunate that you forgot the paper," she be- 
gan hurriedly; but if you will call again I shall be 
pleased to read it through and — perhaps to sign it. 
Now, if you will please excuse me — I — have an ap- 
pointment and " 

O certainly, certainly ; pray don't mention it, and 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 22/ 

pardon me for detaining you so long ; and be assured 
I shall be most happy to call again/' 

With a low bow, and a hasty ‘‘ good evening," he 
took leave, and Helena went quickly to her room. 

“ What a mistake !" she exclaimed. What a rude 
digression in my dream !" Then she laughed quietly 
in retrospection of the last half hour. That would 
indeed have been quite another side to my little ro- 
mance," she muttered. A side that I have never for 
one moment considered. No ; it has never occurred to 
me that Billy could be anything other than I have al- 
ways pictured him — the handsome boy, developed into 
the more handsome and manly man. But suppose I 
am all wrong ?" She glanced uneasily at the clock. 

Ten minutes past eight ! Suppose he does not 
come ?" 

Again the outside bell rang, and soon a card was 
handed her with the inscription : ‘‘ Mr. William Olney 
Marvin." He had really come at last. The knowledge 
caused her breath to come fast, but with apparent 
composure she again descended the stairs. 

As she entered the drawing-room he rose. She gave 
him a quick glance, then advancing, offered her hand 
in friendly welcome. She felt at once that he was not 
disappointing — he was all she had imagined him to be, 
fine looking, dignified, and courteous. His dress was 
quiet, and in perfect taste ; no ostentation either in 
that, or in his manner. 

Any trepidation she may have felt when he was an- 
nounced subsided ; she was perfectly at ease. 

‘‘ I am very glad you called, Mr. Marvin," she said 
frankly, ‘‘ for I am the bearer of several messages from 


228 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


your mother, whom I had the pleasure of meeting while 
in Clydesville.’’ 

Then they sat down, chatting friendlily, like old ac- 
quaintances. There was no effort on either side ; no 
affected meaningless remarks, uttered simply for the 
sake of saying something and to prevent the embar- 
rassment of sitting in awkward silence. 

Did you call on my mother while in Clydesville ?’' 
he asked. 

‘‘ O yes,’' she returned quickly ; and I had such a 
pleasant time. Your mother and I became very good 
friends.” 

Whom do you visit in Clydesville, Miss Bryan ? 
Pardon my inquisitiveness,” he added in the same 
breath, ‘‘but Clydesville is my old home you know, 
and knowing everyone there, I am naturally inter- 
ested.” 

“ My friends — that is, those whom I went expressly 
to see are not there now. They ” 

“O yes, I know,” he interrupted confidently. “You 
were visiting the Culvertons. My mother wrote me 
some time ago that a lady from New York was visit- 
ing them, but she did not mention the name ; and in 
her last letter referring to you, it did not occur to me 
that you were the same person.” 

Helena made no reply. He had unconsciously pro- 
vided her a way of escape, and she gratefully accepted 
it by remaining silent, leaving him for the time to his 
own inference. She had never seen the Culvertons ; 
they had not lived in Clydesville when she had lived 
there, but during her recent visit she had heard just 
enough about them from Mrs, Marvin to enable her 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 229 

to carry on the little ruse without implicating her- 
self. 

Mrs. Culverton is still in very delicate health, I 
understand,” said Mr. Marvin after a moment's 
pause. 

Yes,” returned Helena ; and that is the reason for 
their going to Bermuda for the winter. This climate 
is too cold and too changeable for her.” 

fear she has consumption,” he remarked. ** She 
looked very ill the last time I saw her, and I think her 
recovery is doubtful. It seems very sad too ; she is 
such a lovely woman, and so much needed in her 
family.” 

Yes, it is sad indeed,” said Helena quietly. 

‘‘And her son — Jack Culverton,” continued Mr. 
Marvin, “is a splendid fellow. He is about my own 
age, and we are the best of friends.” 

Helena made no reply. 

“By the way,” Mr. Marvin proceeded, “I have in- 
vited Jack to stop in New York on his return from 
Bermuda, and be my guest for a week. He has no 
acquaintances in town, I believe, other than you and 
myself. Miss Bryan ; nevertheless I think he could put 
in a week very pleasantly.” 

“ Yes, very likely he could,” was the careless reply. 
And yet something in her tone caused young Marvin 
to give her a quick look. 

Despite Helena’s supposed friendship for the Cul- 
vertons, and the fact of her having been their guest 
when in Clydesville, she made no further comment 
regarding Jack Culverton’s prospective visit, and her 
reticence on the subject, and her somewhat reserved 
manner concerning him, was wrongly interpreted 


230 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


and led Mr. Marvin to form a conclusion which 
would have annoyed her very much had she known, 
and would have caused her to adopt a different line of 
action at once. But not suspecting his conclusion,'’ 
and being fearful lest something be said which would 
put her limited knowledge of the Culverton family to 
the test and betray the little ruse, she skilfully changed 
the subject, leaving him firmly impressed with the 
idea that the Culvertons were the people whom she 
visited in Clydesville, and while there had incidentally 
became acquainted with his mother, and that she was 
particularly interested in Mr. Jack Culverton. After 
a few moments silence the conversation became gen- 
eral. They discussed current topics, the theatre, and 
the most popular plays on the boards, and finally re- 
ferred to the latest novel. 

‘‘ I have not read it yet,” he said, so I can only 
speak of it from hearsay.” 

“ You are not quite up-to-date,” she said laughing. 

Nowadays everybody must read the latest novel, 
you know, if only to say they have read it, and partic- 
ularly one that has made such a sensation as this 
one.” 

“Yes, I suppose I am somewhat behind the times,” 
he replied good-humoredly. “ But all my leisure 
moments of late have been devoted to reading up 
problems of public interest. I am making a study of 
Political Economy, and have just finished reading a 
lengthy treatise on ” 

“The financial problem, I suppose!” she inter- 
rupted brightly. “You are not going to be a New 
York politician though, I hope.” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 23 1 

Well, certainly not one of the stripe you evidently 
have in mind,” he replied with a quiet smile. 

You refer to the ^ Tammany tiger,’ I suppose. 
Well, I must say I was not half as sorry to hear of the 
death of that tiger as I was of the death of poor old 
Tip, the Central Park elephant, that was so scientific- 
ally (?) yet so cruelly poisoned a year or two ago.” 

^‘Yes, I remember the event quite well,” returned 
Mr. Marvin. ^‘Poor Tip had thousands of sympa- 
thizers who were greatly relieved when they knew his 
sufferings were ended. His hide was mounted in the 
Museum of Natural History a short time ago, and 
makes quite an interesting exhibition. But so far as 
the ‘ Tammany tiger ’ is concerned. Miss Bryan, it 
would take more cyanide of potassium than was given 
to Tip to kill him, for his vitality is something wonder- 
ful, and his recuperative powers quite surpass those of 
any other known animal. ” 

The conversation drifted to other subjects, and by 
degrees to the latest bits of society gossip. 

I think,” he said laughing, ^Hhat you will find me 
no more up-to-date in society news than in my knowl- 
edge of the latest novel. To be frank, I am somewhat 
of a stranger to society.” 

“ I wish I were !” she exclaimed so impulsively, so 
artlessly, that he was thoroughly amused. 

I would suppose. Miss Bryan, that you would con- 
sider yourself fortunate in being in society,” he re- 
turned. Of course, with me it is different. My time 
is so taken up with business that I have but little 
leisure. Not that I am completely isolated, however; 
I have my business acquaintances, many of whom are 
very desirable friends, and at whose homes I am 


232 WHAT Would the world think? 

occasionally most agreeably entertained. Still, I find 
time to do some reading, and endeavor to keep abreast 
of the times, although,” he added facetiously, “ I am 
not equal to discussing the latest society event, or that 
much talked about novel.” 

“You are fortunate indeed,” she said, “to be able 
to read as much as you do. It quite surpasses any 
attempt of mine in that direction. By the way, how 
do you imagine the greater part of my time has been 
employed during the last two years ?” 

“ That is a rather difficult question, and one quite 
out of my province to answer,” he said, a humorous 
expression lighting his grey eyes. 

“Well, I will tell you,” she proceeded with a frank- 
ness which charmed him. “ It has been devoted to an 
ambition to outdo somebody else in the way of dress. 
A very noble ambition, was it not ?” she asked in a 
slightly sarcastic tone. 

Had his thoughts been spoken he would have 
replied that her efforts in that direction had not been 
in vain, judging from her present appearance. But he 
doubted her assertion. A girl with a face like hers, 
so earnest, so expressive of kindly feeling and noble 
impulse, could never be simply a devotee of fashion 
and nothing more. 

Aloud he said : “ Miss Bryan, I am sure that remark 
is very unjust to yourself and that no one else would 
think of saying such a thing about you.” 

At ten o'clock he rose to go. “ I have passed a 
very delightful evening,” he said, “although I had no 
intention of remaining so long when I came.” 

His words reminded her of the pseudo Mr. Marvin ; 
he had made some remark to the same effect, and the 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 233 

remembrance caused her to smile. Then she told him 
of Mr. Higley’s call, the rather odd coincidence of 
both coming at their mother’s request, and of her mis- 
taking Mr. Higley for him. They both laughed over 
the occurrence, considering it a rather amusing and 
interesting blunder. Then he bade her good-night. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

The next day’s mail bore to Mrs. Marvin a letter 
in which Helena wrote: ‘‘Your son called last even- 
ing, and we had a very pleasant visit ; but I have noth- 
ing of interest to write you concerning it, inasmuch as 
I did not let him know who I really was. You will be 
surprised at this, I know, but I have a little scheme 
in connection with my changed identity, which I am 
eager to carry out. So let me request that you do not 
betray me to him until you hear from me further on 
the subject. I am sure, dear Mrs. Marvin, that I may 
rely on your friendship and secrecy in this matter.” 

The days passed ; a week came and went, and Mr. 
Marvin had not repeated his call. Helena had felt 
when he left her that he would surely come again soon, 
as he had received a cordial invitation to do so, and 
she had requested that he would not be at all formal, 
but would consider himself as one of their friends. 
But he had not availed himself of her invitation. 

“What can it mean ?” she questioned. “ What if he 
never comes again? He seemed to enjoy himself, and 
I rather thought he liked me ; why then does he stay 
away ?” 


234 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


On the tenth day she impulsively wrote him a note 
reading : 

Dear Mr. Marvin : — My father has secured 
theatre tickets for this evening’s performance of ‘ As 
You Like It,’ with Julia Marlowe playing ^ Rosalind ’ ; 
and thinking perhaps you would like to see the play, 
I shall be pleased to have you join our party. 

Very truly yours, 

Helena J. Bryan.” 

All the afternoon she waited in vain for some word 
of reply, but none came. Is it possible he will dis- 
appoint me ?” she thought. ‘Hf he does, what excuse 
can he offer for such rudeness?” 

As the day passed and evening came on, she became 
strangely depressed, and lost all interest in the pros- 
pective entertainment to which she had looked forward 
with such pleasure. Several other friends arrived, 
making it compulsory for her to conceal her disap- 
pointment. But at the last moment, just as they were 
about to start without him, Mr. Marvin was an- 
nounced. 

In expressing regret for having kept them waiting, 
he said : Miss Bryan, I only received your note about 
an hour ago, or I would have replied at once. As it 
is, I had all I could do to get here myself.” 

She accepted his apology graciously, and when he 
expressed thanks for her kind remembrance of him, 
she felt tempted to reply that she was about convinced 
that he had forgotten her. 

During the play that evening, Helena inadvertently 
began to sympathize with Orlando in his hopeless in- 
fatuation for Rosalind, and to compare the disguised 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 235 

Rosalind in her callous treatment of her lover, to young 
Marvin, and her own treatment of him. But Rosalind 
knew Orlando loved her and, woman-like, she enjoyed 
his suffering, knowing she was sure of him. 

If I only knew that my ^ Orlando ’ loved me,” she 
thought, I would not treat him so, nor would I sub- 
ject him for one hour to such cruel suspense.” 

She could barely suppress a sigh, and glancing up 
detected Mr. Marvin’s careless smile while listening to 
Orlando’s love-sick vaporings. Seeing he was ob- 
served, he humorously whispered : 

“ Orlando has lost his head, like the most of lovers, 
and that is Rosalind’s opportunity to keep him on the 
rack. If she doubted his love for her, she would lose 
no time in telling him who she was. Poor Orlando ! 
another victim to a woman’s caprice.” 

Helena made no reply ; she appeared deeply inter- 
ested in the comedy on the stage ; nevertheless she 
was somewhat startled by his significant remark. 

“ Can it be possible he knows who I am, and is wait- 
ing to make sure of my love for him before he tells me 
of his love forme? No,” she thought, a feeling of 
uneasiness forcing itself upon her, “ it is not that ; 
men in love wait for nothing. Can it be possible, then, 
he is in lov^e with some other woman ? But no ! I’ll 
not think of it ; why should I make myself miserable 
without sufficient cause?” 

Several times during the evening while chatting be- 
tween the acts, Helena was half-tempted to tell him 
who she was, and watch the impression her disclosure 
made. But she resisted the temptation. 

“No; not yet,” she thought. “The time has not 


236 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


come ; and that revelation must be made when we are 
alone/’ 

When parting from him that night she said lightly : 

Now, remember, Mr. Marvin, I promised your mother 
to include you in my list of friends ; and as society has 
no claim on your time, why, please bear in mind that 
you are welcome whenever you can make it convenient 
to come. Almost every evening a few of my friends 
drop in, and I am sure you would find them agreeable 
and pleasant to meet.” 

He thanked her warmly for her kindness and re- 
marked that he would be only too happy to avail him- 
self of her invitation. 

On reaching her room she exclaimed softly to her- 
self : ‘‘Yes, I love him, I love him dearly; and not 
merely because of my childish and life-long affection 
for the boy, but for the man. He is all that I have 
hoped he would be. And,” she added, as though in 
confidence to herself, “ we belong to each other. Noth- 
ing can alter that fact.” 

Within a few evenings he called again, remaining an 
hour or so, but several other of her acquaintances be- 
ing present, she had no opportunity for any conversa- 
tion with him except in a general way. For the next 
few days she was exceedingly light-hearted ; but as the 
time again wore on, and she neither saw or heard one 
word from him, she grew expectant and restless. 

“ Why does he treat me so ?” she questioned. “ Is 
it because he is indifferent to me ? Can I not arouse 
in him even a feeling of friendship ? Am I nothing to 
him whatever ?” She impatiently walked the length 
of the room. “ Will he never come to me of his own 
accord ?” she asked. “ Must I continually invent some 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 237 

excuse to bring him ? — else let him stay away. Under 
no other circumstances would I exert myself. I' should 
be the one sought — not he ; but I have devoted my 
thoughts almost exclusively to him ; have made him 
my ideal, my hero ! And now I cannot give him up 
without knowing positively that he is indifferent to me, 
and can never be otherwise. If I knew he were — knew 
he would never care for me, then I would try to forget 
him. But I felt so sure he was at least interested in 
me ; his very expression seemed to indicate that ; but 
this sudden change I cannot account for.’' 

The following morning she received a long letter 
from Mrs. Marvin, and eagerly grasped at that as a 
fortunate means of seeing him again. One hour later 
a note was dropped in the mail box which read : 

Dear Mr. Marvin : — I have just received a long 
letter from your mother which I know will interest you, 
and you must be sure to come up to dine with us, and 
spend the evening. 

Most cordially yours, 

Helena J. Bryan." 

‘‘ I don’t know what he will think of me," she mut- 
tered with flushed cheeks. I fear he will almost think 
I am forcing him to come. It is humiliating indeed ; 
but what can I do ? What other move can I make?" 

During the afternoon she received an answer from 
him by messenger, expressing regret in being unable 
to dine with them, but stating that he would be pleased 
to call later in the evening. 

« Why can he not come to dine ?" she thought won- 


238 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

deringly. Who can have any claim on him at that 
hour ?” 

When he arrived his mother’s letter was made the 
absorbing topic of conversation. Your mother writes 
that your father’s affairs in London are being very 
satisfactorily settled,” said Helena, and she requested 
me to tell you so in case I saw you before she wrote, 
that is why I sent for you so peremptorily. Your 
mother also writes that Angevenia has been very ill, 
and for two days they thought she would die ; but she 
is now much better. By the way, Angevenia is, with- 
out exception, the queerest specimen of humanity I 
ever saw. Have you ever seen her, Mr. Marvin ?” 

O yes ; she was with my mother the last time I 
was home. Poor little Angevenia !” he muttered in a 
sympathetic voice. 

‘‘ What is her other name ?” Helena asked. 

‘‘ I don’t know that she has any other,” he replied ; 
“ in fact the one seems quite name enough.” 

“ Who were her parents ?” Helena continued curi- 
ously, thinking it just possible she may have heard of 
them during her childhood. 

‘‘ I do not know who her father was,” he said ; nor 
do I know her mother’s last name. Everybody calls 
her by her first name, which is ‘ Nancy.’ ” 

Miss Nancy ?” asked Helena unguardedly, and in 
evident surprise. 

‘‘I believe they do call her Miss Nancy,” he returned 
evasively. 

‘‘ When in Clydesville I heard your mother speak of 
her as a strange character,” said Helena, in explana- 
tion of her apparent interest in the woman ; but she 
did not say she was Angevenia’s mother. Tell me 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 239 

something of the girl, Mr. Marvin. She amused me 
wonderfully when I was there, with her strange forms 
of speech — her ‘ I do he’s,’ and, ‘ her do he's,’ to say 
nothing of her elfish looks and fly-away manner.” 

I feel a great sympathy for the poor child,” re- 
plied Mr. Marvin quietly. call her ^ child,' in spite 
of her seventeen or eighteen years, for she is nothing 
more, and never will be. It seems that soon after her 
unfortunate birth, her mother became insane, and at 
times imagined the child to be a huge rat, which she 
desired to strangle ; and she actually would have 
killed it, had not the neighbors taken it from her. So 
the poor little thing was toted about from pillar to 
post, cared for a few days here and a few days there, 
until it was consigned to the county house, where it 
remained until a year or so ago, when a man named 
Hoggins took the child to his home to assist his wife, 
who had broken her arm. But Hoggins is an ignorant, 
meddling sort of man, who tries to rule the house as 
well as attend to his own business ; and he made it so 
disagreeable with his continual wrangling that directly 
Mrs. Hoggins' arm was better, Angevenia wanted to 
leave, preferring to return to the county house to re- 
maining there. But my mother took her, more, I be- 
lieve, from sympathy than otherwise.” 

‘‘And the girl’s mother?” continued Helena. 
“ When she recovered from her insanity did she not 
want her child ?” 

“ I believe on that subject she has never been quite 
rational. She is sane enough on other subjects, but 
has always repudiated her child — disclaiming all knowl- 
edge of it. She has an actual abhorrence of it ; an 


240 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK r 


uncanny sort of fear ; as if it were in reality a mon- 
strous rat/' 

How strange," thought Helena, that Mrs. Mar- 
vin did not tell me anything of this." Then for a mo- 
ment her mind went back to her home in Clydesville, 
where Miss Nancy used to come regularly three times 
a week. She well remembered the woman’s extreme 
kindness to her, and how on baking days she always 
made her a little pie, or a turn-over;" and knowing 
her fondness for animals, she usually managed to have 
a piece of pie crust left, from which to cut out an ani- 
mal of some sort, generally a cat, or a pig. 

Helena also remembered that on one occassion, 
while rolling out the crust, she had muttered to herself 
in a wild fashion, then with a loud laugh had shaped 
the crust into a big rat. 

‘‘I’ll bake it," she said gleefully, “and you shall eat 
it up, and then it can’t haunt me any more." 

Helena understood the significance now of her 
strange words and actions. “And at that very time," 
she thought, “ her own child was in the poor house, 
living on poor house fare." 

“ Mr. Marvin," she said abruptly, “ I did not know 
poor Angevenia’s history, or I would have felt very 
diflerently toward her. I looked upon her more as an 
object of amusement, than otherwise ; and now, since 
knowing her unfortunate story, I must admit I feel 
somewhat remorseful." 

Then they conversed on other subjects, both in the 
best of spirits, and yet she could not help but think : 
“Directly he is gone^ I shall pass from his mind and 
be forgotten," 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


241 


When he rose to go, she said lightly : Now, Mr. 
Marvin, don’t forget to come again.” 

0 no,” he returned pleasantly ; my memory is 
not so defective as that. By the way that reminds 
me of a case of defective memory I ran across this 
morning which was rather extraordinary. But I’ll 
not detain you to-night to relate it, so pardon me for 
having mentioned it at all.” 

Now you have aroused' my curiosity,” she an- 
swered laughing, and I think I shall insist upon hear- 
ing about it. Besides it is not late, so please be 
seated again and tell me.” 

1 don’t know that it will particularly interest you,” 
he replied, but you can decide that question better 
after hearing the story. I was in the Tombs police 
court this morning, waiting for a lawyer to be disen- 
gaged with whom I had a small business matter, when 
a case of highway robbery was called. The prisoner 
was a young fellow of some twenty-two or three years, 
and his dialect indicated him to be a regular ‘ tough ’ ; 
but he looked so forlorn and hopeless, that he aroused 
my interest. When asked to give his name he turned 
red in the face, and hung his head, but did not an- 
swer. 

‘‘‘ Tell your name,’ said the judge sternly. The fel- 
low appeared confused, but still made no reply. 
He was ordered the third time to give his name, then 
in desperation exclaimed: ^‘Youse won’t b’lieve a 
t’ing I says, Jedge, an’ I might as well save me breat*. 
But, yer Honor, sure’s I’s a standin’ ’ere, I’se forgot 
it — it’s clean gone frum me min’. See?’ 

^ Forgotten your name T roared the judge. 


242 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

^^‘Yes, yer Honor, Hse forgot me name. I ain’t 
t’ought of it fur ages. But let me t’ink a minute.’ 

‘ What name did you give the sergeant at the sta- 
tion house when you were arrested ?’ asked the Court. 

^‘‘Say, yer Honor, I didn’t give none, an’ dey put 
me in de book fur John Doe. See ?’ 

Everybody in the room laughed except the judge, 
who looked unusually stern. Evidently no one be- 
lieved the fellow, although he did not appear to be 
obstinate, but dazed, or ‘ rattled,’ as some of them ex- 
pressed it. Suddenly he leaned forward : 

^‘^Say, Jedge,’ said he, ‘me name’s come back ter 
me all of a suddint — it’s Mike Finnerty, yer Honor.’ 
Then the fellow protested his innocence in vehement 
terms, and for a person In his sphere of life he seemed 
wonderfully sensitive and cut up over his arrest. The 
Court made some scathing remarks, and the prisoner, 
forgetting their distinctive positions, in a desperate 
tone exclaimed : 

“‘Jedge, yer Honor, I tell yez wot, I niver stoledit ! 
I ain’t a settin’ meself up fur no peach, but I’s givin’ 
it to yer straight, Jedge, fur wid all me faults I ain’t 
no t’ief. See ? W’y yer Honor, w’en I wuz notin’ but 
er kid I niver pinched even a tater from de grocery, 
an’ I’se had t’ousan’s o’ chances, too. De gang useter 
hoot at me, an’ call me er jay, an’ er softy, an’ er 
chump, ’cause I didn’ catch on ; an’ say, Jedge^ de las’ 
mentioned name has stuck ter me till dis day, an’ I 
disremember w’en I wuz called anyt’ing ’cept Mickey 
de chump, an’ dat’s w’y, yer Honor, I forgot me real 
name. See ? ’ ” 

Helena uttered no exclamation of surprise, but that 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 243 

name affected her nevertheless, and caused startling 
events of the past to recur to her mind. 

Where does he live, Mr. Marvin ?” she asked 
quietly. 

I cannot exactly say, but it was on West Street, 
down town along the wharves somewhere, I believe.” 

Yes,” she thought, it must be he — the very boy 
who fought to recover my jewel case, then conducted 
me to father’s office, where he was called a rascal, and 
almost kicked out by the janitor for his pains. And 
alas ! that is the only recompense he has ever received 
for his kindness.” 

What was the result of the trial, Mr. Marvin ? — 
was he found guilty ?” 

“ The policeman swore he was the thief, and the 
Court held him for the grand jury.” 

Where is he now ?” 

‘‘ In the Tombs, I believe.” 

That night Helena was restless and unable to sleep. 
Recollections of that hot August day twelve years be- 
fore when she was lost in West Street near Vestry, 
haunted her. She remembered that odious wolfish 
girl, called “ Moll de rat,” and how she was befriended 
by that dirt begrimed boy called “ Mikey de chump.” 
Only for him, she would have lost the letter to Mr. 
Bryan, and in that case Mr. Bryan might have taken 
no particular interest in her even had she succeeded in 
reaching him, which indeed seemed doubtful when she 
remembered the officer’s intention of handing her over 
to the Gerry Society. 

Having so generously remunerated the Rudens, 
Helena had considered her obligation ended ; but she 
realized now as never before that she was under great 


^44 WHAt Would thu world think? 

obligation to that wretched boy of the slums, to whom 
she had scarcely ever given a thought. 

‘‘Nor have I ever done the slightest thing, she ad- 
mitted with a tinge of remorse, “ to show him my ap- 
preciation for so nobly defending me.’' 

There in her own home surrounded by every luxury, 
it seemed hardly credible that she had really been 
among those people and escaped unharmed. The 
mere memory was dreadful enough, but what troubled 
her particularly, was the thought of that overgrown 
boy — developed physically, but not mentally ; a hu- 
man being possessing the elements of a noble charac- 
ter, left to grow up like a weed amid most deplorable 
conditions, untaught, uncared for, almost uncivilized, 
and now lying in the Tombs awaiting trial. 

“ If he is innocent I must save him,” she exclaimed. 
“ He saved me from — Heavens knows what ! and per- 
haps he has not a friend in all the world.” 


CHAPTER XXHI. 

The next day was an epoch in Helena’s life. She 
witnessed phases of the “ other side ” which haunted 
her for many a day afterward. At ten o’clock in the 
morning, clad in a plain close-fitting cloth gown, she 
presented herself at the well-known building of 
“ Charities and Corrections,” on the corner of Elev- 
enth Street and Third Avenue, and there among the 
crowd of poverty stricken and wretched specimens of 
humanity, awaited her turn to approach the complais- 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 245 

ant faced, and rather portly man at the desk, who 
graciously gives the permits to visit the public institu- 
tions on Wards and Blackwell’s Island and the city 
prison. Some wanted a permit to enter Charity Hos- 
pital as a patient, others wanted to see friends on 
the Island.” One timid faced woman on approaching 
the desk stood mute, as though too bewildered and 
frightened to speak. 

“Well, what is it?” asked the complaisant faced 
man in power. 

“ Please sir, will you give me a paper to go to the 
Insane Asylum on Wards Island ?” she asked in a 
quavering voice. 

“ What’s that? — speak up louder.” 

The request was repeated in more frightened tones 
than before. Evidently the man’s voice was not as 
reassuring as his face. 

“ What do you want to go to the Insane Asylum 
for?” he asked. 

“ Please sir, I want to see how John Watkins is — 
him that was sent there a year or so ago.” 

“ What good will it do John Watkins for you to 
know how he is ?” the man asked in a slightly sarcas- 
tic tone. 

“ There’s a man down town, sir, that used to know 
John, and he says that when John dies he’ll see him 
buried proper, and not leave him for the doctors to cut 
up. And so, sir, I want to go up and see John, and 
tell the doctors there that when John dies to save him, 
and let the man down town know.” 

“Humph!” grunted the complaisant faced man. 
Then he stuck his pen behind his ear and in a brusque 
voice said : “ My good woman, you tell the ‘ man 


246 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


down town ’ that if he is so interested in John he had 
better send him a barrel of oranges, or something else 
that he would like, and never mind just now about his 
dead body. Next ?’' 

The woman slunk away as if she had received a 
severe reprimand, and Helena being next,'’ stepped 
into her place. 

‘‘Well ?” 

“ I would like a permit to visit the Tombs to see 
Mike Finnerty,” she said in a low tone. 

“ Is Mike Finnerty a relative of yours ?” 

“ No sir.” 

He looked up, gave her a peculiar searching glance 
then without a word wrote out the permit. A half 
hour later Helena stood in the long procession waiting 
to be admitted to the Tombs. When once within the 
gates came the searching process, but as no razor, 
knife or poison could be found about her, she was per- 
mitted to pass. 

Michael Finnerty was sitting on a cot in a narrow 
whitewashed cell, feeling disconsolate enough. It was 
one of the surprises of his life to find that the lady, 
looking so compassionately upon him through the iron 
bars, had come expressly to see him. The “ angel of 
the Tombs ” had been there the day before, and had 
spoken to him kindly, but she only came in a general 
way and not for his sake alone. At first he appeared 
embarrassed and ill at ease, but Helena's sympathetic 
manner, and sincere interest in his case, soon dispelled 
his embarrassment and he told his story. “ Lady, if I’d 
a stoled it,'' he said in conclusion, “ den I’d stan' de 
bein' nipped widout squealin'; but I didn't. See? I 
wuz jus' goin' 'long 'bout me own biz, w'en all of a 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 247 

suddint de cop hollered ^stop/ an’ a cove corned run- 
nin’ pas’ me like greased lightnin’, an’ w’en ’e seed de 
cop onter ’im, ’e dropped de swag, an’ skipped roun’ 
de corner, an’ den I picked it up jus’ as de cop corned 
up an’ collared me. An’ lady, datsame cop ’e’s got er 
grudge agin me, an’ ’e’s glad ’nough fur de chance o’ 
nippin’ me ter git square. An’ lady, ivery word I’se 
tol’ ye’s as true as preachin’. See ?” 

Helena believed him ; she knew he was the Mikey 
of old ; very much changed, but not beyond recogni- 
tion, especially when looking for a resemblance. 

I wouldn’t min’ so much, lady, if ’twasn’t fur 
Pete,” he continued ; it’s fur ’im I min’. See ?” 

Who is Pete ?” she asked. 

’E’s me brudder. Patsey an’ Tim’s gone ter sea, 
an’ me an Pete’s all dere’s left ; de ol’ folks passed in 
der checks years ’go, an’ Pete ’e’s sickly an’ can’t do 
much, an’ ’e sticks ter me, an’ I looks after ’im.” 

If you were at liberty, and had money enough to 
start you in something, what would you do ?” Helena 
asked. 

Say, lady, dats a rattler, an’ no mistake, see ? But 
if me an* Pete owned a oyster sloop, I t’inks ’im an’ 
me’d pull togedder an’ do a good bit at oyster dredg- 
in’.” 

That evening Helena related her adventures to Mr. 
Bryan, and succeeded in arousing his interest, particu- 
larly after hearing the whole story. ‘‘ He is the iden- 
tical boy who befriended me that awful day,” she 
said, the proof is positive. This morning he spoke 
of his brothers, Patsy, Tim, and Pete, and I remember 
of that boy of the slums referring to those same 
brothers. Now father,” she said coaxingly, ^Hf that 


248 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


little lawyer of yours wishes to redeem himself in my 
estimation, let him do so by securing this poor fellow’s 
acquittal.” 

The next week Michael Finnerty was discharged ; 
and to-day he and Pete are among the most successful 
oystermen along the coast. But never have they been 
able to solve the mystery surrounding the boat of 
which they are so proud. They merely know it is 
theirs ; that it was awaiting them when Mikey was 
discharged from the Tombs. Mikey, has a strong sus- 
picion however, that de swell lady ” who visited him 
while there, is chiefly concerned in his good fortune. 
But who she is, or how she came to interest herself in 
his case he will probably never know. 


Too soon Helena began to realize that her fears 
concerning young Marvin were prophetic, and that he 
had indeed forgotten her. Day after day sped by and 
still he did not come. Two weeks passed, and she 
had not even heard from him. 

‘‘There is nothing more I can do!” she cried in 
despair. “ I have no letter from his mother to offer 
as an excuse for sending for him, no theatre party 
planned ; nothing in fact. What can I do to bring 
him to me without humiliating myself further? I 
have done enough now, Heaven knows, but he surely 
has not suspected any motive.” 

It was December, a cold clear night. Helena sat 
moodily before the grate, trying to decide to give 
him up. 

“ I cannot endure the suspense he causes me !” she 
exclaimed. “ I lovehirn; my thoughts are constantly 


WMAt WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 249 

with him, and what is the result ? Nothing whatever 
but his coolest indifference. How thankful I am that 
he does not know my feelings for him. I have kept 
the secret safe in spite of the invitations extended to 
him as though more because of my friendship for his 
mother, than for himself. But oh ! I am miserable. I 
wish I could forget him. Heaven knows I have 
thought of him long enough ; and now, at last, to find 
he does not care for me ! It is galling indeed ! And 
why does he not care for me ? In what way do I fail 
to please him ? O Billy ! Billy! I was so proud and 
happy less than two months ago, when you first came, 
to find you so handsome, so manly ; and I was so sure 
you cared for me, and that long before this you would 
know who I really am. But now I fear that from 
me, you never will. No !” she exclaimed with vehem- 
ence. He shall never know ! Were he to find out 
that I am his child wife, he would suspect my feelings 
at once, and rightly construe my eager friendship ; he 
would discover that I love him and would think that I 
desire to hold him to those childish vows. Ah ! the 
very thought is unendurable. I shall go to Clydes- 
ville at once, and tell his mother all, and swear her to 
secrecy. But oh ! I do wish I knew if he ever thinks 
of that moonlight night ; or if he ever gives one 
thought to that poor little friendless girl ?” 

At that moment there was a knock on her door, and 
a servant handed her a card which brought a look of 
joy to her face. So he has come at last, and of his 
own accord !” she exclaimed. Come when I least 
expected him ! Is he beginning to care for me a little 
after all ?” 

She took a rapid survey of herself in the glass, and 


250 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

finding nothing to criticise, descended to the drawing- 
room. 

I was in the neighborhood, Miss Bryan,” he said 
briskly, “ and having this morning received some news 
which I thought would please you, I have dropped 
in.” 

News?” she repeated wonderingly. 

^‘Yes; I have a letter from Jack Culverton stating 
that his mother is very much better, and thinking that 
perhaps you had not heard from her recently, and that 
Jack had neglected to inform you of her improvement, 
I thought you might be glad to know.” 

Yes, certainly ; I am indeed glad to know she is 
recovering. And it is very kind of you to bring me 
the information,” said Helena trying to appear at 
ease. 

Have you heard from Mrs. Culverton direct ?” he 
asked. 

“ No ; I have not,” she replied, her manner becom- 
ing slightly constrained. 

Mrs. Culverton will no doubt write you soon, now 
that she is better,” he said. By the way,” he added, 
when I answer Jack's letter, I shall tell him of my 
acquaintance with you. I fancy he will be rather sur- 
prised ; but I must not forget that indirectly, I owe 
the pleasure of our acquaintance to — to his family.” 

‘‘ Mr. Marvin, please do not even refer to me when 
you write him,” said Helena, so imploringly, so earn- 
estly, that he readily acquiesced. He asked no ques- 
tions, made no comments, but he felt convinced that a 
misunderstanding of some kind existed for the present 
between handsome Jack Culverton and Helena Bryan 
of a nature which concerned themselves only. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 251 

Suddenly, like an inspiration, a way flashed to 
Helena’s, mind by which she might bring the conver- 
sation to a long desired issue. 

‘‘Your mother must miss Mrs. Culverton very much, 
and feel quite lonely while she is gone,” she remarked, 
paving the way. 

“ She does indeed,” he replied, “ and feels quite 
isolated since the house has been closed.” 

“ So I should think ; it must be very unpleasant to 
have the nearest house on either side of her vacant. 
That reminds me, when I was in Clydesville, during 
my rambles I explored that vacant house on the 
opposite side of the street from the Culverton’s. Find- 
ing it unlocked, and not seeing any sign of ‘ No tres- 
passing allowed,’ I walked in.” 

“Indeed ?” was his brief response. 

“ It was such a pretty house too,” she continued, 
“ it seemed a pity for it to be inhabited only by rats 
and mice and hornets. I should think with very little 
expense it could be made into a very desirable summer 
cottage.” 

He merely assented without showing any particular 
interest in the matter. 

“ Who owns the place ?” she asked, becoming more 
fearless as she proceeded. 

“A lady — a very dear friend of my mother, did own 
it, but she died many years ago.” 

“ Did she leave no heirs ?” 

“Yes; one.” 

“ Where is he f” 

“ The heir was a girl.” 

“ Well, would she not rent it, or sell it, do you 
think ?” 


252 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

I really cannot say, Miss Bryan.” 

Does she live in Clydesville ?” 

“ No — and I have not the remotest idea where she 
lives.” 

Helena’s heart was throbbing painfully ; with diffi- 
culty she maintained an even tone. But having 
ventured, she determined to carry the matter to the 
end. 

‘^What is the girl’s name ?” she persisted. 

Helena Channing.” 

Indeed !” she exclaimed laughing. Now I am 
interested for certain, since she has my name, and a 
rather uncommon one too, is it not ?” 

It’s a very pretty name,” he answered quietly. 

‘‘ Do you think so ?” she asked. I remember 
when I was a child of asking my mother why she 
named me ‘ Helena,’ and she replied that I was named 
after an island in the Atlantic ocean. It struck me as 
being very funny, and I kept questioning her about it 
until she explained that before I was born she became 
de’eply interested in reading the life of Napoleon, and 
more particularly that of Josephine, his divorced wife ; 
and the impression it made on her caused me to be 
named ‘Helena Josephine.’ But why, with her sym- 
pathies all in favor of the latter, she should have 
called me by the former, or named me at all after the 
isle of Saint Helena, as though in remembrance of 
Napoleon’s exile, I do not know. Now, about that 
house in Clydesville,” she said, again returning to the 
subject. “ Of course, Mr. Marvin, you do not think I 
am serious about it ; but really, if my father were to 
rent the house and furnish it, we could go there for a 
few weeks every summer. It’s a very delightful place, 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 253 

and so near the Culvertons, you know— -^and your 
mother/' she added as an afterthought. 

And near Jack Culverton, as well/’ though he; 
but the thought was not expressed. 

So you have no idea where the girl is who owns 
the place ?” she again asked. 

“ No ; she disappeared long ago, and has never since 
been heard of.” 

How very strange !” said Helena. And has she 
never communicated with any one concerning her 
house ?” 

'' Not to my knowledge.” 

‘‘ How old a girl is she ?” 

I suppose she is quite a young lady by this time, 
if living.” 

“ You think possibly then she may be dead ? — a very 
natural conclusion, certainly, after her long silence. 
But tell me, Mr. Marvin, did she lack good sense ? — 
that is, was she anything of the Angevenia order ?” 

He was rather surprised at her persistence concern- 
ing the girl, but politely replied : No ; she was not in 
the least like Angevenia. I remember her as an ex- 
ceedingly bright and interesting child. By the way. 
Miss Bryan, was not the escape of that girl from the 
burning building yesterday on Broadway a miracu- 
lous affair ?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject. 

^‘Yes; very miraculous indeed,” she returned, her 
tone unconsciously betraying disappointment (not be- 
cause of the girl’s escape, however). “ What can I do 
to make him talk of herT' she was thinking. How 
non-committal he is ; I don’t know even yet, whether 
he feels one particle of interest in that child.” 

I think the efforts of our firemen are not half 


254 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


appreciated/' he resumed. People seem to take it 
as a matter of course when they risk their lives in 
those burning buildings to save other lives. But I 
consider them as great heroes as ever lived, and they 
ought to be more publicly honored." 

Helena quite agreed with him. She had often 
admired, and spoken in praise of their wonderful, 
their heroic deeds ; but there's a time and place for 
all things, and just now, firemen were de trop^ and his 
indifference made her reckless as to consequences. 

Mr. Marvin," she said, determined to interest him 
if possible in the subject, ‘‘what do you suppose has 
become of — the girl who owns that house ? Pardon 
my persistence, but to me, it seems a very singular 
thing that she should have disappeared, and never 
again be heard of. Did she meet with foul play ? — is 
she dead ?— or what ? Why, if such a thing occurred 
here, the whole police force would be looking for her, 
and dozens of newspaper reporters as well." 

“ Perhaps not, if she had no friends to cause an 
investigation." 

Helena held her breath. “ And had she no friends 
— no one at all interested in her fate?" she asked at 
length. 

“ None evidently who exerted themselves very 
much ; at least not in a public way." 

“ But you said her mother was a very dear friend of 
your mother ?" 

“ So she was ; and my mother was greatly affected 
by the child’s disappearance and so was I. We made 
all possible inquiries of a local nature, but could learn 
nothing." 

Again he changed the subject, evidently not caring 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 255 

to discuss it, and Helena reluctantly gave up the 
attempt to draw him out. For the moment, the desire 
again seized her to tell him who she was ; but even as 
she began, the words died away on her lips, and 
remained unspoken. 

Suddenly a prospective dilemma presented itself to 
her. He would be going to Clydesville one of these 
days, and there learn that she had never visited the 
Culvertons — that they had never heard of her ; he 
would also find Mrs. Hopdyke in her house, and learn 
that Helena Channing alias Helena Bryan, had 
brought about the innovation. Then he would know 
all, in spite of her, — in spite of his mother. 

‘‘Well, ril not borrow trouble in advance on that 
score,'’ she thought. “ ‘ Sufficient unto the day is the 
evil thereof.' Besides, it is just possible that although 
he has ceased to care for the child, he may in time 
care for me. If he does, I shall tell him the whole 
story, before he has an opportunity to learn it in 
Clydesville." 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

A FORTNIGHT later, Helena decided that the hope 
which had sprung up in her heart when Mr. Marvin so 
unexpectedly called, was but a vain hope after all. 

“ He must have called," she admitted bitterly, 
“ merely to let me know the good news concerning my 
very particular friend Mrs. Culverton ; a polite ac- 
knowledgment of his appreciation of my having noti- 
fied him when I received that letter from his mother." 


256 WPIAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


Helena was in the drawing-room awaiting the sum- 
mons to dinner, over which she must soon preside and 
endeavor to appear as cheerful as usual ; but at heart 
she felt miserable enough. 

Two weeks ago to-night he was here,'’ she thought, 
'‘but there’s no knowing when he will ever come 
again. How restless I feel — I long to get away ; 
away from myself. If I remain home someone is sure 
to call, and I do not feel equal to the task of entertain- 
ing. I believe I’ll go to the opera. This is Melba’s 
last night, and I’ve only seen her once ; surely that 
will prove a diversion.” 

Soon Mr. Bryan entered the room, and at her re- 
quest readily consented to act as her escort. Hurry- 
ing through dinner, they barely had time to reach the 
opera house before the curtain rose for the first act. 
For a while she saw nothing but the stage ; then her 
eyes wandered to a box on the other side of the house, 
and instantly became fixed in an earnest gaze. A 
shade passed over her face ; for there before her, was 
Mr. Marvin in company with a young and beautiful 
woman. Helena remained until the last act, to all 
appearance perfectly calm, but in the solitude of her 
room she gave vent to her despair. 

“ Who is she ? What is she to him ? What right 
had he to be with her when he belongs to me?” she 
questioned with tears of grief and anger in her eyes. 
At last she sat down in a low chair by the grate to 
think it over. Presently, with a mew and a yawn. 
Dash, a big tiger cat, left his cushion and jumped up 
on her lap. “ You never have occasion to worry your- 
self, do you Dash?” she said, stroking the cat’s shiny 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 257 

fur. Dash shook his head as though in answer, then 
settled down for a nap. 

‘‘ What a fool I am ! she exclaimed. ‘‘ Why can 
I not make up my mind to give him up ? 

The cat raised his head in surprise at her sudden 
outburst. 

No, I don’t mean you,” she said. ‘‘ I would not 
part with you, old Dash, under any circumstances ; 
you’re too fond of me, and Tm too fond of you.” Dash 
settled down again, perfectly satisfied. 

I suppose,” she muttered scornfully, that just 
now I am in that state of mind which novel writers 
describe as 'jealous.* Well, if I am, it’s not without 
good cause. Never before did I know what jealousy 
was. I’ve read of the ridiculous things which jealous 
women, and men too, have done, with a sort of con- 
tempt for them ; but hereafter I shall be more char- 
itable. A reasonably jealous person is deserving of 
sympathy, rather than contempt and censure.” 

A few days later Mr. Bryan went to Denver in some 
mining interest, and Helena felt almost relieved to 
have him go. " He would be sure to notice that I am 
unlike myself,” she thought, " and would question me> 
and that I could not bear. Had my hopes and expec- 
tations turned out differently, he would have known 
all about them before now, for I would not have feared 
his disapproval. When I was a child he objected 
naturally ; considering Billy an ignorant boy of no ac- 
count, running about barefooted, dressed in coarse 
blue jean, with perhaps a crownless straw hat on his 
tow head. But he never could object to William 
Olney Marvin, I am sure, from any point of view, 
financial, social, or otherwise*” 


258 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

The day after Mr. Bryan’s departure, Helena wrote 
to Mrs. Marvin imploring her to come and remain with 
her during his absence. My father has gone to Den- 
ver,” she wrote, and will be gone two weeks. I am 
feeling wretchedly depressed, so please come at once j 
I really need your cheering company.” In a postcript 
she added : Please do not let your son know you are 
coming ; you can notify him directly after your ar- 
rival.” 

There,” she thought when the letter was finished, 
‘‘ with her assistance I may perhaps get at the truth ; 
and even that will be some satisfaction.” 

Mrs. Marvin responded in person, arriving the next 
day but one. Helena took her at once to her room, 
and after removing her bonnet and wraps they sat 
down for a confidential talk with no one to overhear 
them except Dash, the cat, and he was trustworthy. 

Now, Helena, dear,” said Mrs. Marvin in a tone of 
earnest solicitude, tell me what is troubling you. 
You are looking pale and worried ; and I know there 
is more cause than the mere fact of Mr. Bryan having 
gone away for a week or two.” 

Helena made no reply. It had seemed easy enough 
to confide in Mrs. Marvin when she was far away, but 
all at once the task became an unenviable one. 

‘‘ Have you yet told Billy who you are ?” Mrs. Mar- 
vin asked suddenly. 

‘‘ No I have not. I intended to long before this but 
—I ” 

Mrs. Marvin sighed and for the moment was silent. 

My dear child,” she proceeded anxiously, tell me if 

my son is — in any way ” She paused ; finding it 

difficult to express her meaning. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 259 

Helena looked up quickly. Mrs. Marvin,” she said, 

you mean to ask if your son is in any way concerned 
in — that is, if he is the cause of my having summoned you 
here so hurriedly. I will be frank and admit that he 
is. I have many things to tell you as well, but some- 
how I shrink from doing so ; I — hope I shall not forfeit 
your love and esteem.” 

Mrs. Marvin became really alarmed, and glanced 
uneasily towards the door as if to assure herself that 
no one were listening. My child,” she continued in 
a low tone, ‘‘ I have secretly wondered and wondered 
why you have so long withheld your identity from your 
childhood playmate. And now — that you — Helena 
dear,” she added pleadingly, be frank with me — tell 
me all there is to tell ; remember I am your true friend 
and — I am Billy’s mother.” 

Mrs. Marvin’s manner more than her words had 
caused a flush to dye the girl’s cheek, and in sudden 
desperation she told her story, beginning with their 
pledged vows that night beside her mother’s grave, her 
promise to return when twenty-one, and the sequel, up 
to date. And,” she added in an earnest voice, from 
that hour to this, I have considered our vows sacred, 
and have been as true to him as though I were really 
his wife.” 

Mrs. Marvin impulsively clasped Helena within her 
arms. My dear child,” she said feelingly, what you 
have told me only increases my affection and draws 
you nearer to me, and gladly would I welcome you as 
my daughter. As to my son’s behavior and apparent 
indifference to you I can offer no explanation ; it is to 
me indeed inexplicable.” And she looked fondly, and 
with admiration on the girl’s interesting face. 


26 o 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


‘‘Helena dear/' she continued, “ why do you not 
tell him who you are? — that might " 

“ His very indifference has prevented me," Helena 
interrupted. “ If I thought he cared one iota for little 
Helena Channing I would tell him ; or if he cared for 
me, I would tell him. But as it is, I cannot — he would 
think at once that I had designs on him." 

Mrs. Marvin looked thoughtful, and for several min- 
utes seriously meditated over the matter. 

“ Have you any idea who the lady was at the opera 
with him ?" Helena asked. 

“ No ; not the slightest." 

“ Has he ever mentioned anyone to you in whom he 
might be interested ?" 

“ No, my dear ; not so much as a word." 

After dinner they returned to Helena's room, and 
speculated on the matter until bed time, then separated 
for the night, none the wiser or more settled in their 
conclusions than when they began. 

Mrs. Marvin was well pleased and gratified with 
Helena's surroundings and evident social position. 
Pleased for the girl's sake, for whom she had ever felt 
a fond interest, and pleased for her son's sake, for she 
sincerely hoped to see him ere long claim her for his 
wife. 

“ So the Bryans," she mused, “ were personal friends 
of Mrs. Channing. Poor woman ! how she suffered 
and how cruelly she was treated by some of the Clydes- 
ville people— people far inferior to her and inferior to 
the Bryans. 

Mrs. Marvin thought of her husband, and of how he 
had forbidden little Helena to share their home — her 
home, in fact. She was not a revengeful woman, but, 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 261 

she was human, and many times during the last twelve 
years, despite her efforts to the contrary, bitter feel- 
ings had arisen for the moment toward him when think- 
ing of his heartless decree in refusing to shelter the 
friendless child, and of his utter disregard of her own 
wishes to the matter. 

1 wonder if Helena realized at the time, or if she 
remembers now his action toward her ? I sincerely 
hope not,” Mrs. Marvin thought, '' for if she becomes 
our boy’s wife, and does remember, the recollection 
would not be a pleasant one either for her or for him — 
particularly for him. How surprised he will be to find 
how much Mrs. Channing was esteemed by people like 
the Bryans, and to find that Helena is the child he once 
despised because of her parentage, and almost turned 
from the door. Well, no doubt his self-condemnation 
will be his punishment, and a justly deserved one too.” 

The next morning Mrs. Marvin wrote her son that 
she was at Mr. Bryan’s, and requested him to call that 
same evening. He did so, and appeared greatly sur- 
prised to find her there. He expressed pleasure at 
seeing her, but she instinctively felt that he was not 
quite pleased, and would rather she had not come. 

On taking leave she said to him : I hope you will 
come up every evening while I am here, my son; it will 
be quite a treat to see you so frequently.” 

How long do you intend to remain, mother ?” he 
asked. 

“ Miss Bryan wishes me to remain until her father 
returns, which will be in about two weeks.” 

“ Yes indeed,” said Helena decisively. I shall not 
permit your mother to leave me until after my father 
comes home.” 


262 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 


A quick shade passed over his face, which Helena 
and his mother both noticed. The next evening when 
he called, Helena, on some pretext kept away, leaving 
him to his mother, as had been previously arranged. 
For a time they conversed on home matters, their in- 
terests in London, and his own business prospects. 
Then came a lull in the conversation. 

Mother,” he said abruptly, is not this friendship 
of yours for Miss Bryan rather sudden, and — well, to 
speak plain, is it not a little out of the usual order on 
so short acquaintance for you to have accepted a two- 
weeks’ invitation from her ?” 

Billy,” she replied calling him by the old fond 
name, I see that you are displeased because I came. 
I detected as much last evening and was not only sur- 
prised but grieved, and I am sure Miss Bryan observed 
your displeasure as well.” 

O no, mother !” he replied quickly. I am not 
displeased that you came ; I am delighted to see you, 
and wish you were here as 7nf guest. But this sudden 
intimacy with Miss Bryan, who is really a stranger, 
seems to me a little puzzling. I don’t suppose she 
was ever in Clydesville but once in her life, and then 
as the guest of Mrs. Culverton ; and, as I understand, 
you happened to meet her there. By the way, I 
wonder where she became acquainted with Mrs. Cul- 
verton ? I never thought of it before ; do you know, 
mother ?” 

No ; I do not. I never heard Mrs. Culverton re. 
fer to the subject, or Miss Bryan, either, for that mat- 
ter. My son,” she continued, after a moment’s re- 
flection, there are people in this world whose ac- 
quaintance need not be measured by time, and Miss 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 263 

Bryan is one of them. She is a charming girl, so 
bright, so kind-hearted, and so thoroughly interesting, 
that one cannot help but admire her at first sight, and 
the admiration is bound to develop speedily into 
sincere friendship — as has my own for instance.'’ 

He politely assented — nothing more. 

Billy, what have you against Miss Bryan ?” she 
asked earnestly. 

“ Against her ?” he returned in surprise. Why 
nothing whatever I assure you ; and like yourself, T 
consider her a very lovely and charming girl.” 

You have a strange way of showing it, then,” she 
returned dryly. 

What do you mean, mother ?” 

I mean that if you consider her so ^ lovely,’ and so 
‘ charming,’ why have you not taken advantage of 
your opportunity to make her acquaintance ? From 
my conversations with her concerning you I infer that 
you have been here but very seldom.” 

I have come every time I was asked,” he said quietly. 

'' Very well; but did she not give you a general in- 
vitation to call whenever you could find time ?” 

Yes, I believe she did.” 

“You evidently have not done so. I cannot 
imagine what you are waiting for, unless for someone 
else to step in and win the prize, — for I assure you 
she is a prize.” 

“ I fully agree with you ; but mother,” he added 
meekly, “ as I had no intention of competing for the 
‘prize,’ I did not wish to obtrude myself by taking 
undue advantage of her kind invitations.” 

Mrs. Marvin betrayed slight impatience because of 
his obtuseness. “ Can you not see,” she asked, “ that 


264 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


Miss Bryan likes you ? — to be plain, that she is really 
fond of you, and that you have no rival ? And, my 
boy,'* she continued more gently, nothing would 
please me better than to know that you were seriously 
interested in her." 

Mother, why do you think Miss Bryan cares for 
me ; she surely has not told you so?" 

Have I not eyes, and a woman's instincts ?" she 
asked evasively. And did I not see you together 
last evening ? Why, my dear boy, her manner, her 
every look, told it to me as plainly as words could 
have done." 

Your observation is keener than mine then," he 
returned smiling, for I have never detected anything 
of the kind. To me, her manner has always appeared 
merely frank and offhand." 

You are very obtuse Billy, stupidly so ; but I in- 
tend to open your eyes. I am not, as you know, a 
scheming woman, but, my son, I am not entirely blind 
to your interests ; and Miss Bryan, aside from her own 
charming personality, is a most desirable match for 
any man, even in far more affluent circumstances than 
you are." 

I admit that all you say is true, mother, and I 
dare say my friend, Jack Culverton, would also agree 
with you on that point." 

My son, what do you mean ?" 

Simply that Jack Culverton is interested in Miss 
Bryan, and she in him. And being Jack’s friend, I do 
not intend in his absence to play him false, by trying 
to rob him of his ‘ prize.' " 

So that is the solution of the mystery," thought 
Mrs. Marvin. Well, well, what a misunderstanding 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 265 


IS existing between them/’ Aloud she said : Billy, 
you are mistaken ; that is all nonsense ; there never 
existed between Jack and Helena the slightest — well 
I may say even friendship.” 

am sure you are wrong, mother,” he returned 
quickly, ^Hor Miss Bryan almost admitted as much to 
me the first time I saw her. I don’t recall her exact 
words, but she impressed me with the fact that she and 
Jack were very much to each other, but later on I in- 
ferred from something she said that a misunderstand- 
ing had arisen, but as it did not concern me I asked 
no questions. But believe me, if any misunderstand- 
ing, serious or otherwise, exists between them either 
now or in future, it shall not be because of me.” 

'^My dear boy,” replied Mrs. Marvin convincingly, 
you have my positive word that nothing whatever 
exists between them. I know very well of what I am 
speaking, and to convince you that I am right, I will 
state in strict confidence that Jack is engaged to Flor- 
ence Chester. Florence told me so herself, and Mrs. 
Chester, even now, is preparing in a quiet way for her 
wedding in the spring. So if you have been holding 
yourself aloof from Helena Bryan because of Jack 
Culverton, it’s fortunate I came down in time to dis- 
abuse your mind.” 

Mrs. Marvin felt greatly relieved, and rather glo- 
ried in her son’s fine sense of honor, now that the ob- 
stacle was removed, and he free to make his feelings 
for Helena known. But her relief was of short dura- 
tion. 

I regret to dampen your hopes, mother,” he began 
reluctanctly, but you might as well know first as last 
that Jack Cvilvqrtqn is not the sole cause of my indif-. 


266 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

ference to Miss Bryan. Of course, that alone would 
have prevented me from showing her any attention 
other than friendly; but there are other reasons just 
as prohibitive. But since learning the truth about 
Jack, I will admit to you that I could very easily be- 
come fond of Miss Bryan, — too fond of her ; and that 
is why I’ve had the good sense to keep away. Were 
it not for ” 

‘‘For what ?” she impatiently interrupted. “You 
do not mean to tell me that you have some other at- 
tachment ?” 

“Yes, mother ; I have.” 

Mrs. Marvin looked distressed, and leaned wearily 
back in her chair. “ Will you not confide in me, and 
tell me all about it ?” she asked presently. 

“ My dear mother,” he said gently, “ there’s nothing 
to tell ; that is, nothing definite as yet. But when there 
is, I shall certainly confide in you.” 

“ Has — has the affair progressed so far that you are 
in honor bound to ” 

“ Yes, mother ; it has.” 

Mrs. Marvin sighed involuntarily, and again leaned 
back, with a hopeless expression on her face. If her 
son’s honor were at stake, and some worthy girl’s af- 
fection as well, she could say no more ; and with a 
heavy heart she decided to outlive her disappointment, 
as in time Helena would outlive hers. 

“ I hope some day,” he resumed, “ to present her to 
you as my affianced wife ; I am sure you will be 
pleased to know her.” 

“Yes, of course I shall wish to see her,” was Mrs. 
Marvin’s unresponsive remark. 

He noticed her lack of interest, knew well her disap* 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 267 


pointment,and felt somewhat cut up about it. As for 
Mrs. Marvin, she regretted having betrayed Helena’s 
affection for him. She had done so impulsively, with- 
out suspecting his affections were otherwise placed. 
Helena, she knew, would feel terribly humiliated were 
she to suspect it. But then, he would think she had 
told it on her own authority, and with no voucher 
other than her own intuitions. Besides, she had im- 
plicit confidence in her son's honor and fine sensibili- 
ties in such matters ; with him Helena's secret would 
be safe. Only a despicable cad will boast of a wom- 
an's affection for him, and particularly if he does not 
return it. 

Observing that her son did not care to discuss the 
matter further, it was dropped, and after he had gone, 
she was compelled to face Helena with the truth of his 
indifference. 

^‘Well," replied the girl calmly, ‘‘this, then, is the 
end. Anything is preferable to suspense ; and now, I 
shall school myself to give him up." 

“ I cannot express my disappointment," said Mrs. 
Marvin in a grieved tone. “ But as it cannot be 
helped, the sooner we become resigned the better for 
our own peace of mind. And remember, my dear, his 
indifference to you is not heartfelt, but from a sense 
of duty. Had he met you first, this unfortunate affair 
would have turned out differently. As it is, I think it 
is best for all concerned that in future you and he do 
not meet." 

Then she turned away, too disappointed for Hel- 
ena's sake and for her owa to say more. “ I have 
loved that girl from her very infancy," she thought 
with a pang of grief, “ and now when my hopes were 


268 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


high — when I was really happy in planning for the 
future of ‘my children/ as I have already begun to call 
them, I suddenly find that my hopes were vain. Ah 
well ! it's only another disappointment added to the 
many, for I can admit to myself that life has not been 
to me all that it might have been.’' 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Two days later Mrs. Marvin returned to Clydes- 
ville ; nothing could be gained by remaining, and in 
her present state of mind she preferred home to any 
other place. Helena felt bitterly indignant toward 
young Marvin as the cause of her going. 

“ I think it very selfish and cruel of him,” she said 
to Mrs. Marvin at parting. “ If he does not want my 
friendship he need not have it ; but he has no right 
to deprive me of yours. Why he should object to you 
being here I cannot imagine.” 

“ My dear, perhaps you are mistaken and are judg- 
ing him wrongfully.” 

“ No, Mrs. Marvin, I am not. He plainly showed 
his displeasure when he found you were here, and I 
am equally certain that he is the cause of your hasten- 
ing away. Nothing can alter my opinion on that 
point, and I don’t feel now as though I could forgive 
him very soon either. Now tell me frankly, Mrs. Mar- 
vin,” she continued in a coaxing tone, “ is it not owing 
to his influence that you are leaving me sooner than 
you otherwise would have done ?” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 269 


Mrs. Marvin made an evasive reply. Helena did 
not press the matter nor insist on a direct answer, for 
she was fully convinced that her surmises were correct, 
and she observed that the subject was an unpleasant 
one for her guest to discuss. 

After Mrs. Marvin’s departure the time dragged 
heavily enough. Hope will keep the spirits from sink- 
ing, but with Helena all hope seemed dead and for the 
time being, was. On the third day, after seriously 
thinking the matter over, she sat down at her desk, 
pale and determined. 

I will see him once more,” she thought, ‘‘and tell 
him all. He would soon hear it in Clydesville, that is 
inevitable ; and the explanation for my apparent de- 
ception and fraud would be better from me than from 
any one else. But he shall never know that I love 
him. I merely want him to know that my childish 
promise was kept about returning ; besides, it will be 
a sort of satisfaction to see him when he learns who I 
am. And, more than all, I want to let him know that 
I resent his action concerning his mother ; and then it 
will be a relief to have the suspense at an end.” 

Acting on impulse, she wrote a note requesting him 
to call that evening. “ There,” she exclaimed when 
it was finished, “ this is the very last word he shall 
ever receive from me.” 

Promptly at eight o’clock he came. Her greeting 
was as cordial as ever, but he detected that her man- 
ner was forced, and that a determined expression 
shone in her eyes. His own manner, despite all effort 
to the contrary, became constrained ; his mother’s 
words concerning Helena’s affection for him would 


270 WHAT W0ULD_THE WORLD THINK ? 

come to his mind, and they produced sensations which 
were somewhat conflicting. 

They spoke of the stormy weather, of Mrs. Marvin’s 
recent visit, then the conversation lagged. 

By the way,” she remarked carelessly, ‘‘my father 
and I attended the opera one evening a week or so ago 
and I saw you there, Mr. Marvin ; we had the box 
directly opposite yours.” 

“ Yes,” he returned easily, “ I was in Mrs. Arm- 
strong’s box ; she is the bride of one of our firm. Mr. 
Armstrong secured tickets in advance, but was unex- 
pectedly called out of town, and as it was Melba’s 
last night, and Mrs. Armstrong was eager to hear her, 
he requested me to be his wife’s escort.” 

So this, then, was not the girl he was to wed after 
all! “ Well,” thought Helena, “it matters little to 
me now who she is, and so why should I feel at all in- 
terested or care 

Again the conversation lagged, and their artificial 
efforts to keep it alive were plainly evident, each real- 
izing that the other felt ill at ease. 

“ It was very good of you to brave the storm to- 
night, in response to my note,” she said at last, more 
for the sake of saying something than otherwise, it 
seemed to him. 

“ And it was very good of you to invite my mother 
here for a visit,” he returned. “It was quite a treat 
for her, and I am sure she thoroughly appreciated it 
and enjoyed herself very much.” 

Helena looked at him sceptically. His words 
seemed to her but a mockery ; false in themselves and 
uttered in mere pretense. Nevertheless he had given 
her the opportunity she desired. An indignant light 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 2/1 

came to her eyes, and a scornful tremor to her voice, 
as she replied : 

If your mother was enjoying herself, why did you 
begrudge her the pleasure, and influence her to go 
home so much sooner than she intended ?” 

He looked at her inquiringly. 

‘‘You cannot deny it,’' she proceeded with increas- 
ing emphasis. “ I saw from the very first that you 
disapproved ; in fact, that you were really displeased 
because she came.” 

He withdrew his eyes, but made no reply — neither 
to deny or affirm. His very silence only increased her 
indignation the more. 

“Your mother and I are very good friends, Mr. 
Marvin,” she said resentfully, “ and I extended to you, 
as her son, the hospitality of this house, hoping to 
make it pleasant for you to be informally welcome at 
all times ; you, however, have almost repudiated the 
hospitality offered you, and my friendship as well. 
That, of course, was entirely optional with yourself ; 
but when it comes to interfering with the friendship 
existing between your mother and me, that is quite 
another matter, and one which I would like you to ex- 
plain.” 

“ Miss Bryan,” he answered in a quiet tone of re- 
monstrance, “you do me great injustice in thinking 
that in any way I wished to either decline your hospi- 
tality, or repudiate your friendship; or that I was dis- 
pleased because my mother was here.” 

“ Were you pleased ?” she asked in a satirical tone. 
“ Were you glad she came ? Did you persuade her to 
remain, or did you discourage her, and influence her 
to go ? ” 


2/2 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


For a moment he was silent. I see that you doubt 
me/* he said at length. 

Have I not good reason ? — can you deny the 
charge ? ** 

Yes, and no. Miss Bryan,** he resumed more confi- 
dentially, you are seriously offended with me, and 
the only way I can hope to obtain your forgiveness is 
to confide in you, and in that manner qualify my con- 
tradictory statement, and make my position clear.*’ 
Very well,” she returned coldly, “ I will listen to 
your confidence, and then I have something to confide 
to you, which I think will surprise you very much.” 

Her manner chilled rather than inspired him ; but 
endeavoring to ignore her displeasure, and appear per- 
fectly at ease, he proceeded amicably: 

Miss Bryan, do you remember some few weeks 
ago of questioning me about that vacant house in 
Clydesville? — the one you spoke of renting?” 

She was surprised — startled ; but calmly replied ! 

Yes, I remember it quite well.” 

And do you remember how interested you were 
in the girl who owns it ?’* 

Yes — I remember,’* she replied, struggling bravely 
to maintain her composure. She indeed remembered 
how she had tried on that occassion to induce him to 
talk on the subject, and how he had evaded it until 
she was compelled to give up the attempt. And now, 
for him to refer to it voluntarily, and under such cir- 
cumstances, was simply amazing. 

It is of her,” he continued, I wish to speak.” 

Helena leaned eagerly forward. ‘‘You told me,” 
5he 3aid, speaking rapidly, “ that the girl disappeared 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK ? 2/3 

years ago, and had never been heard of. Have — have 
you heard anything of her since 

No, not yet ; but I’m expecting to very soon.” 

Every vestige of color left her face ; she stared at 
him confusedly, and in a strangely altered voice asked : 

‘^Why are you expecting to hear from her? What 
is your reason ?” 

My reason is because of my faith in her. But if 
you care to listen, I will tell you of a little romance 
in my life which concerns her as well.” 

I do most assuredly,” returned Helena. I was 
greatly interested in all you told me, but — you 
impressed me with the idea that you were absolutely 
indifferent as to whether she were living or dead.” 

I impressed you wrongly. Probably because at 
that time I did not wish to discuss the subject, or con- 
fide in" anyone. But you have forced me to do so in 
order to vindicate myself ; and strange as it may seem 
to you, she is concerned in my vindication. I believe 
I told you her name was Helena?” 

Yes; you told me that.” 

But I did not tell you how fond I was of the child, 
nor how fond she was of me ; as children, we were all 
in all to each other, playmates and little lovers from 
my earliest recollection.” 

Helena turned away her face ; she could not look 
him calmly in the eye and appear unmoved while in 
such eager suspense as to what his confidence would 
portend. 

Pardon me,” she said, ‘‘but — the girl’s name, her 
strange disappearance, and — all together, affected me 
very much, and does 3tiU ; but pi'ay proceed, I am. 
li$tening,” 


2/4 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

‘‘After her mother died,” he continued, “it was 
arranged that she should live with a family some dis- 
tance from us, and the thought of going nearly broke 
her heart, and my own as well. The evening before 
she went she stole secretly to the churchyard, to bid 
her mother's grave farewell. I followed and witnessed 
her passionate grief. 

“ At that time I was only twelve years old, but con- 
sidering myself quite a man, I endeavored to soothe 
her with assurances of my love ; and, before returning 
to the house we exchanged vows of everlasting faith- 
fulness to each other, calling on Heaven to witness 
our sincerity. 

“ The w^oman with whom she went to live was un- 
kind, and Helena, being possessed of wonderful spirit, 
self reliance and courage, rebelled and ran away. 
She came directly to my mother, arriving after I was 
in bed and asleep. But, unknown to anyone, she 
came to my room to bid me good bye. I know this 
from the fact that in the morning I found a little note 
from her, evidently written then and there, and which 
I have always kept. Even now it is in my memoran- 
dum book.” 

Producing the note, written in lead pencil on a 
scrap of brown wrapping paper, he read : 

“ Dear Billy : — I am going away, I don't know where 
to yet, but sometime when I can I will come back to 
you as I promised I would that night when we got 
married. So dont forget me Billy, for I wont forget 
you, and if I get so far away that I cant come for a 
long time I will for sure when I get to be 21 years 
old. So good bye dear Billy. I just kissed you twice 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


275 


but you didnt wake up. I feel awful bad to leave 
you Billy, but be sure and remember that I will come 
back. 

Your little wife, 

Helena.’' 


“ From that hour to this, Miss Bryan,” he resumed, 
‘‘ she has never been seen or heard of ; and no one 
knows the anxiety I have suffered because of her. 
From the hour we stood together beside her mother’s 
grave I have considered her my child wife. She has 
been so continually in my thoughts as to have become 
a part of my very self, and I have been as true to her 
as though she were legally my wife.” 

Helena sat immovable, her face averted, her eyes 
riveted to the floor. So perfect was her self-control 
that not a sign was visible of the gladness in her heart. 

** I have not thought of him and loved him in vain 
then, all these years,” she mused. While I have 
been thinking of him, he has been thinking of me, and 
I, in my ignorance of the truth since meeting him 
again, have been miserable because of it. What a rev- 
elation !” 

Where do you suppose she is, Mr. Marvin ?’' 
Helena finally asked. 

Heaven only knows ; but I feel that she is living 
and well, and that before long I shall see her again.” 

Why do you think so ?” 

Because of her promise. She was not a shallow, 
frivolous child ; she was earnest and womanly even 
then; and I am confident she will come back to me.” 

Has the time arrived when she was to come ?” 

•‘That I cannot positively answer,” he replied, as I 


276 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


do not know just when her birthday occurs, not even 
the month. But I do know that it is sometime dur- 
ing the present year, which will soon expire. She was 
nine then, and that was twelve years ago ; so if she is 
not yet twenty-one, she soon will be.'' 

Does she know where to find you Helena asked 
quietly. 

No, but she knows where to find my mother, and 
mother has always promised to notify me in case she 
came. And now. Miss Bryan, I will disclose my 
reason for confiding all this to you. When my mother 
visited you I was not as displeased as you thought, 
but I must admit that I was somewhat anxious while 
she remained. I knew the time had come, or would 
soon, when little Helena had promised to return, and 
I wanted her to find a welcome, even if she did not 
find me ; and I am sure, since hearing my explanation, 
that your sympathies are still further aroused in her, 
and sufficiently, I hope, that my course may receive 
your approval, rather than your censure." 

‘‘ Have you told your mother anything of this, Mr. 
Marvin ?" 

‘‘ To that I must again answer yes and no. I did 
mention to her during one of our conversations that I 
was interested in a lady whom I hoped some day 
would be my wife ; but I told her nothing definite." 

'' Do you think she will be pleased when she knows 
all about it?" Helena asked searchingly. 

I hope she will ; she was very fond of the child, 
and of the child’s mother." y 

But even as he spoke, a serious doubt arose in his 
mind as to his mother being pleased. He had kept 
the secret safe, thinking that when the time came, and 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 2 ^^ 

Helena returned, she would welcome her as a daughter. 
But now, her heart was set on Miss Bryan, with her 
wealth and social position, and poor little Helena 
Channing's prospect of meeting his mother’s heart-felt 
approval did not seem as assured as it once had. 

Suppose,” continued Miss Bryan, that even if she 
is living and does remember her promise and returns, 
that you are disappointed in her? Twelve years is a 
long time. She may have woefully changed and 
prove to be an ignorant awkward girl, whom you 
would be ashamed to acknowledge even as an ac- 
quaintance. What then would you consider your duty, 
Mr. Marvin ?” 

I cannot believe such a thing possible,” he replied. 
‘‘ She was refined by nature, and too intellectual, too 
observing, to be other than what I have always im- 
agined her to be.” 

But your imagination may be astray ; such a thing 
is very probable. We are all to a degree creatures of 
circumstance, and hers may have been extremely un- 
fortunate. In that case what would you really do ?” 

He became thoughtful. '' Suppose she’s right ?” he 
thought. What would I do ? I certainly could not 
permit an uncultured, or vulgar girl to take the place 
of my ideal ; that would be impossible, unjust to my- 
self, and — to her. But it’s more than probable that if 
we ever meet we shall both be disappointed in each 
other, and hopelessly disillusioned ; and, since know- 
ing Miss Bryan, I almost hope it will be so. For al- 
though I am loath to give up my childish romance as 
a dream, Helena Channing must be more charming 

than Helena Bryan, or I shall regret ” 

“ It is quite a pretty romance,” said Helena, inter. 


2;8 WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 

rupting his thoughts, and your long-enduring faith is 
amazing and deserves a happy reward. I hope, yes,” 
she repeated earnestly, I sincerely hope for your sake, 
that the child has developed into a charming girl, and 
that you may discover her soon and not be disap- 
pointed to find that your devotion to her has been mis- 
placed.” 

Did he detect an insincerity in Helena’s words ? 
Remembering his mother’s confidence concerning her 
love for him, he fancied he did. A vivid imagination 
too often, perhaps, causes us to do injustice to others. 

‘‘But remember, Mr. Marvin,” she added consolingly, 
“ if you find your fondest hopes all vain, do not be dis- 
heartened and feel that you have lost all — that nothing 
remains ; the world is wide, you know, and there are 
thousands of others just as lovely as you have imagined 
your ‘ Ideala ’ to be.” 

He looked up quickly, and in evident surprise at her 
rather suggestive remark. She was somewhat sur- 
prised herself in having made it, and would not have 
done so, had she not known that soon her words would 
be rightly interpreted. Besides, she realized now that 
in his heart he loved her, although he would scarcely 
admit the fact to himself, so loyal was he endeavor- 
ing to be to Helena Channing. And the knowledge 
of this fact only increased her admiration for him. 
She smiled to herself in picturing his astonishment 
when he knew who she really was ; and his joy as well 
she now dared to hope. “And his mother,” she 
thought. “ How delighted she will be. To-morrow I 
shall write and tell her all about it.” 

“ How long will you wait, Mr. Marvin,” she con- 
tinued, “ providing your little Helena fails to come?” 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 279 

she does not come within the present year, and 
I do not hear from her,” he replied resignedly, I 
shall give her up as dead — dead to me at least.” 

Would you be greatly disappointed ?” 

I would, certainly ; her memory has been with me 
so long, so tenderly^ that it would seem a cruel ending 
to my romance if ” He paused, but added quickly : 

She may come yet ; my faith in her is not yet dead.” 

“ Is it not strange that she has never written you, or 
let you hear from her in any way ? How do you 
account for her silence ?” Helena asked curiously. 

That is a problem, and a rather mysterious one,” 
he replied. My mother has thought for a long time 
that she is dead, but I cannot think so. I feel strongly 
impressed that when she becomes of age she will keep 
her word, and satisfactorily explain her long silence.” 

Well, I do not wish to appear pessimistic, Mr. 
Marvin,” said Helena, or cause you to be so, but 
really, your faith seems to be very visionary. To my 
mind the most probable thing would be that she is 
married to someone else, and you, long since for- 
gotten.” 

In that case,” he answered with a vague smile, I 
shall be only too glad to hear of her happiness.” 

Well, suppose you do hear from her,” Helena per- 
sisted, ^'and she tells you she is very unhappily mar- 
ried. What then would you do ?” 

“That I cannot say, But why do you ask, Miss 
Bryan ?” 

“ O for no particular reason,” she replied evasively. 
“ But would you still remain attached to your childish 
love ?” 

She laughed as she asked that question — a nervous, 


28 o 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


hysterical laugh ; her cheeks were aglow^ with sup- 
pressed excitement, and her manner strangely affected 
him. For a moment he was silent, then impulsively 
answered: ‘‘No, Miss Bryan, I would not. I would 
remember your advice about not being ‘ disheartened ’ 
and turn to you for consolation.'’ 

She dropped her eyes, but did not protest, and the 
encouraging smile which she endeavored vainly to 
suppress, emboldened him to proceed. 

“ Helena," he said, dwelling almost tenderly on the 
word, “ I have never called you by that name before ; 
but it is her name, and in many other respects you 
remind me of her. Your eyes are as I remember hers 
to have been, and you are like what I imagine her to 
be now ; she is constantly in my mind when I am with 

you, and " He abruptly paused, as though 

aware that he was committing himself, while the color 
deepened in his face. A moment later he added : 

“ And that must be my excuse for speaking to you 
as unreservedly as I have done." 

His excuse, now, was flimsy enough ; no longer 
could he conceal from her his real feelings. The time 
had come to undeceive him, and to tell him who she 
was ; and not in the spirit she had thought to tell him 
a few hours before, but as she had hoped when they 
first met. She quietly rose, and stepping to a small 
table close by, took a little gold ring from under a 
book where it had been concealed, and handing it to 
him, said : 

“ Mr. Marvin, did you ever see this before ?" 

He examined it closely, read the inscription on the 
inside, then sprang to his feet. 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 28 1 

Yes,” he exclaimed ; this is the ring I gave to 
Helena Channing. How came you to have it ?” 

‘‘ She is not dead, nor married, nor has she forgotten 
you,” replied Helena with wonderful calmness. She 
kept her promise, and went to you on the very day 
named, but you were not there.” 

For an instant he gazed at her blankly as though 
her meaning was not quite clear, then, as if an inspired 
thought came to him, he laid his hand on her arm, his 
eyes intense in their expression of eager inquiry. 
Helena, unable to resist their pleading, joyously cried : 

O Billy, do you not know me — your little Helena ?” 

His face grew radiant. Yes, he knew her ; knew 
that his fondest hopes were more than realized ; knew 
that the little sweetheart of his boyhood was now the 
idol of his thoughts. He did not wait for an explana- 
tion. His suppressed love for Helena Bryan burst 
through his self-control when he learned that she was 
Helena Channing, his first and only love ; that he had 
found her, and that she loved him, and had ever worn 
his image in her heart. Such a wealth of fortune 
dawned upon him in the realization that this beautiful 
girl was all his own as he looked into her smiling eyes 
so full of love and joy, that for a moment he stood like 
one dazed with the rapture of a beautiful vision, trem- 
bling lest it be all a dream. Then, with an exclama- 
tion of delight that found a happy response, he impul- 
sively drew her within his arms, and the vows of their 
childhood were lovingly renewed. 


282 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 


EPILOGUE. 

Mr. and Mrs. William Olney Marvin are to-day 
prominent members of metropolitan society. Their 
entertaining, while not showily lavish, is in excellent 
taste, and is thoroughly enjoyed by those who are for- 
tunate enough to be included among their friends. 

Young Mrs. Marvin is very popular, and her name 
often appears in the society columns of the leading 
journals as being a well-gowned woman. Being 
well-gowned, however, and reading descriptions of her 
charming toilettes, is not her highest ambition. But, 
being a society woman, she has a fad, and it is to be 
regretted that her fad is a rare one among her set. 
Frequently on pleasant afternoons she may be seen 
driving in Central Park in a well-appointed turn-out 
behind a handsome pair of thoroughbreds, whose mag- 
nificent tails are tangible proof of her convictions that 
the cruel practice of docking ” should be discontin- 
ued, both from an artistic standpoint and a humane 
one as well. 

Mr. Bryan, on becoming acquainted with Mr. Mar- 
vin, withdrew his former objections to him as ground- 
less, and has treated the young couple handsomely 
indeed. 

Mr. Marvin, senior, is justly proud of his daughter- 
in-law, and is secretly annoyed and conscience-stricken 
because of her indifference to him, while she evinces 
such fondness for his wife. Still he has no actual 
cause for complaint, for her manner toward him while 
formal, is always studiously polite — too polite, in fact ; 


WHAT WOULD THE WORLD THINK? 283 

he would be far better pleased were she less conven- 
tional with him and more friendly. But he is justly 
punished, and must be content for her filial affection 
he can never possess. 

But young Mrs. Marvin is a very happy woman ; 
she is devoted to her husband — he is equally devoted 
to her. She is surrounded with wealth, luxury and 
friends, and has not the remotest suspicion that a fam- 
ily skeleton ’’ exists in her closet. But there does, 
nevertheless. And, as a person’s eligibility is more a 
question of pedigree than otherwise within her set, it 
is to be hoped, for her sake, that Mr. Bryan’s determin- 
ation of long ago to keep the skeleton in the closet ” 
securely locked in, may forever be maintained ; that 
it may never step forth, nor the sensational secrets 
concerning her mother, which would set her world to 
thinking, ever be disclosed. 


THE END. 


SOME COMMENTS OF THE PRESS ON 
“ A TITLE— REJECTED.” 


In “ A Title — Rejected " Octavia Clouston has made her en- 
trance into the domain of literature in a manner to at once 
make herself felt. The book must certainly make an impres- 
sion, and it could be made to serve a noble mission if it were 
placed in the hands of every young woman in the land whose 
father is wealthy enough to buy her that matrimonial bow- 
wow” — a titled husband. ... In the entire 336 pages there is 
not a dull line, an unhappy phrase, or a slip-shod sentence, 
which is saying all that needs be from a literary point of view. 
From a moral point of view the story is most wholesome ; the 
sentiment is sound, pure and elevated, while all through the 
book are little bits of philosophy and deep peeps away down into 
human nature that come on the reader with most pleasantly 
startling surprise. That large and sensible class of people who 
read novels only for what there is in them worth reading, and 
not because they are Trilbied into a flatulent and ephemeral 
notoriety, will find a treasure in “A Title — Rejected.” — New 
York Sunday Mercury. 

Young women who read Mrs. Octavia Clouston’s new novel, 
“A Title — Rejected,” will receive a sound warning as to the risks 
run in marrying titled foreigners. Though all foreign counts 
are fortunately not of the stamp depicted in this novel, yet it is 
not difficult to believe that just such a story as is here told could 
have been paralleled in real life. — Boston Courier. 

“ A Title — Rejected ” is a novel containing enough plot and 
intrigue to satisfy the most exacting reader of fiction. The 
villain of the story is an Italian count living in Paris. His first 
victims are a beautiful opera singer and her sister, but he meets 
his match when he attempts to victimize an American girl 
whom he abducts and confines in an old castle on the Seine. 
. . . The author has shown great ingenuity and vivid imagina- 
tion in her description of the castle scenes, while the experiences 
of her heroine are indeed thrilling. The average novel reader 
will follow it to the end with unabated interest. — Bookseller, 
Newsdealer and Stationer. 


A very effective story, from the point of pertinently involved 
and mystery-holding facts, which draw naturally their consistent 
climaxes, is A Title — Rejected.” While the events of the 
story are varied and stirring enough to interest any story-lover, 
they will further accent to many minds the complications pro- 
duced by the foreign nobility mania which has so much disin- 
tegrated the ranks of American society. . . . The plot is a 
good one and well carried out. It is also significant for the na- 
ture of the events chronicled — many of which any reader will 
realize as easy of occurrence. The story is so admirably narrated 
that no one will care to put it down until the whole web of the 
heroine's life is straightened out. It possesses admirably man- 
aged elements of an exciting story, while not at all partaking of 
the nature of sensationalism. The author has shown a great 
deal of skill in the development of situation and the outlining 
of character, and the story will be much enjoyed. — Boston Ideas. 

“ A Title — Rejected ” is a romance recording the terrible dis- 
asters that befell an American girl who fell into the power of an 
Italian count. . , . The story is for the benefit of young ladies 
who in their social aspirations seek alliance wdth European aris- 
tocracy. The reader is led on from page to page with great in- 
terest. — Indianapolis Sentinel, 

“A Title — Rejected ” is a powerfully written novel. ... It 
is intended for a warning to the young ladies of America against 
any alliance with titled foreigners. — Baltimore American. 

‘VA Title — Rejected ” is decidedly one of the books of the 
day — that is to say, it seems to have been written both for a 
purpose and to entertain. In the preface the author says the 
book was written for “ those young ladies whose social aspira- 
tions have no limit,” yet there is not anything in it that would 
make an American heiress change her mind to-morrow if she 
had read it — because the story, while it is interesting, is always 
improbable. European noblemen of to-day do not shut lovely 
young women up in chateaux to secure their hands in marriage 
— they don’t have to. The story is well written ; Octavia 
Clouston shows splendid imagination and real cleverness in 
handling matters and dramatic situations. — Buffalo Sunday 
News. 


. . . The book is, we presume, intended to show to the 
average American girl the pitfalls prepared for them by titled 
foreigners. The story is well written, and is, by far, above the 
average book of the day . — Englewood Times. 


Considered as an example of current fiction, A Title — 
Rejected ” has the merit of sustained interest in narrative, 
which is more than can be said of many novels. It is the story 
of an American girl who refuses to marry a wicked count, and 
the manner in which the details of his intrigues are carried out 
shows him to have been a villain of discernment in female 
attractions and gifted in satanic devices. . . . The author is 
to be especially commended for the manner in which she por- 
trays her female characters — all types of clean and pure woman- 
hood. The book is meeting with much favor and is highly 
praised for its smooth movement and dramatic effect. — Hacken- 
sack Republican, 

A Title — Rejected is a romance written after the French 
model once in vogue. The villainous Count d’Alfrai, who is an 
abductor and intriguer of the first rank, though always polished 
and courtly in his dealings, is finally the victim of his own schem- 
ing. Beautiful women and strong, impetuous lovers and hus- 
bands abound, and virtue is, of course, triumphant. — Philadel- 
phia Evening Bulletin, 

. . . In a newspaper review it would be folly to attempt to 
even give an idea of the plot, or the base machinations of the vil- 
lain who figures in it, or of the dastardly methods which he adopts 
to gratify his morbid propensities. We can only say that 
Octavia Clouston’s work gives strong evidence of careful and 
intelligent preparation ; that the plot is ingeniously developed, 
and that the story is so well written that it sustains its interest 
from beginning to end. To be appreciated “ A Title — Rejected " 
must be read, and we cheerfully recommend it to those of our 
American heiresses whose eyes are dazzled by the glitter of 
foreign coronets, and before they embark upon matrimonial 
ventures with foreign noblemen. — Steam and Sail, 

A Title — Rejected " is a story full of action and will interest 
the popular mind. The plot is somewhat complicated, but is 
made plausible by the ingenuity of the author, and the end is not 
disappointing. — Boston Tunes, 

“ A Title — Rejected is a novel pertinent to American 
thought of the day. It depicts most graphically the story of an 
American girl who rejects a titled count, though the refusal 
costs her almost life and liberty. ... For intricacy of plot 
it has few rivals, it is one of the cleverest of its kind, and a 
thrilling interest is sustained from beginning to end. There is 
a power of fascination in this work in the world of fiction. Mrs. 
Clouston’s other stories vary widely in character, and her 
“ Charity Ferguson Letters,” which appeared in the Hew York 
Recorder ^ were unique. — Washingtofi Heights Gazette, 


Mrs. Clouston has apparently written A Title — Rejected as 
a warning to American girls who are ambitious to marry foreign 
noblemen. The experience of her heroine was certainly start- 
ling, and should serve as a deterrent to “ those of our young 
ladies whose social aspirations have no limit,” The book is in- 
teresting enough. — Charleston News and Courier, 

. . . The book deals with the altogether too prevalent de- 
sire on the part of our wealthy families to make marriage alli- 
ances with the foreign nobility, and it is deeply interesting 
throughout. — Bergen County Democrat, 

. . . The keynote of this story is She did not stoop to 
conquer.” It is very readable, — Western Stationer. 

To show the American weakness for titles is the object of a 
reminiscent narrative, full of the mysterious paraphernalia of 
Jane Porter, which has been written by Octavia Clouston — “A 
Title — Rejected.” . . . The story is after the peculiar style of 
“ Monk ” Lewis, and is very interesting. — New York Evening 
World. 

“A Title — Rejected” is a shaft aimed at the weakness of 
American women for titles. The story is told as a reminiscent 
narrative, and is full of mysterious coincidences, striking like- 
nesses, secret doors, anaesthetic potions, mistaken identities, etc. 
— Publisher s Weekly, • 

“A Title — Rejected” would do good if it were to fall into 
the hands of those American heiresses who buy foreign counts 
for husbands ; and to any young lady contemplating such a 
course I commend the book and the further counsel : Don’t.” 
— New York Recorder, 

“ A Title — Rejected ” is a spirited romance, detailing the ex- 
periences of a beautiful and accomplished American girl, who, 
on a visit to a friend in France, was thrown by force of circum- 
stances into the association of an unprincipled Italian count, 
from whose unwelcome attentions, after a series of exciting ad- 
ventures, she finally escapes .... The story is well main- 
tained throughout and is sufficiently romantic and tragic to sat- 
isfy the most exacting reader. — Detroit News-Tribune, 



' -/ • ;r.v-N;^^> ■■ • . ;'VJ 


• V ‘ • . - -T* ' -'♦-•* 

r;-^* ' ' ‘ . V \ 

r . .' .. . V 




». V 


■ • V 

'>/* >», ^ 


\-' 


. v** • 


•• • • • ^ 

v*^.*** '• * • I . %’♦ • ■ • » . . y . ■ ■' ,■’ ^l V#’ t 


<- 


. V 


■ •/ V .. :* , . 


..y • -.. • 

'^S'-i- - ■ '• • 

t*---!?- .'iv-: .-' 

■i.. •, 


■ i'. ■* . ' 

' v. 

.f ^ ■ 


- *'■" iVi^ Z 3 M» '. 

- ■ 

' T- w*^ ^ V lir 2&9n - 


> -v >. 

.-v,y fv 

f*' ^^- * ' V* ^ ^ 


' ‘'jl . '‘y- ^ 

‘‘J 




>- 

* • * 


i •• »* 










f . 


^ •'* \ ‘ 'i 'i'l: 

■•■ ■• Vv-»V is,, 

■J. ■: ..• ■ -^ -r.,,., ; 



r- •»-_>.•. • 


V. 


•I .’ 


r-',V V ;'r, 




.. ^ - 




‘tr* 


* * ^ < 


\ ‘ V ‘ - >1 

i-^'O ‘-r-r‘^"' 



-r 


• V. 
•• \ 


7 ^' ’ '. • i’ >•'• 

' -■ 'v- 


.-V 

U 


- . •*■ 


,k“* ;L.« s # 1 ’ 

■ ; • 

I ' V . . r- • ’ "■ ' ■ ' 

■**.-••*. / *• 


> / 
•*r.' 


^.. 



: '.s??'.>j 



i:; 

A-r' ■ ‘^ . " 

• •• 1 i ” t ,» .» V *1*^ •% \.* *“W -ll 

n: V. 

* • •' r 1^'' r A . 


H ■»^* •^•j ^ , “ *«•* \ «^ -. • 

. -. ■• ‘ -y: s, . i* - • - .!*-= 

• T' > 11 ^ c 


O •#. V 


> 
' i 


V* T • " . . 

« ■ LT' 


i. 






^■" V- A'-'.-i ’■ -i': '>' 








r w 




-£^ 


'T'!-i;vv' 

'■-Vv^': 


1 ^ i « ■ 

* 


■“ %, 


■ 

* % r • ^ I 







«»%c » 


I-" 


</ ' ^ ^ 


- !•' 


■ }vn 


‘1 ■ 


i • ^ 


'i v' 


- , < 


I . 


•r ^ 



t 



• , . r » I .-? ■t*' 

'^; ^ •■ /.'V' .' " ' ^r- 

. "-'yr.'t -j?A* 

.-■*-: i M- 




A‘'^ r * - » . 


-^rr.'-' ^ • 


‘A’ 




J" 


.V 


V 


— -V 


• '■■ • - 

_ , ^ _ , ...•». ^ % V ' 


v' 4* ^•. •N 

• AM'iQf., -- 




V 

# 7^ 

V V^x 

-• * » ■* 

? 'f-* 

*.> # 

^ - 

•i • j 

•«> ' ' 

?:• 

» ? .: • . 

■ :& 

•>A 

•» ■ 


*.»* 


. 


•V 1 '. 


•.^ / 

r \ : 


;s?: 




•.^'« 1 • ^ *«' •. • • . ■ jpV 




I . * 

. I * 


Hi 




*«► 










1 


■/W. 




!* ' S ?C % . 'l.:/ 1 h » - • • ’• 

i;v '. ■ iwRifflBi 

V ^■'.Ir' f' ■ fi ^ 






'' -ii: 


V-^ 




*, i 


*.r 





%V- * • 

^.y - . , •;,7 .i> .• -i. - / '; J 

E , , 4.V •■ -- .. ^ . .-i. 







' >: n’ 

/ ’• ’.V^’ ' V .' » ■' »i* >.»• ’- ■ t * ‘ ^ 

. ■ . ► *-•- ‘* 

'c' 5 i/X 5 ? 


) 


Jr 

X 3 • ^ 


X ^ r 

- » >• 


■>?'' ■ .. • • ^ . •.'i: '• ... . 


i< 


« • 


t • 



'• V' 


tiv . , , - x*^, . Tf- *: '■ '*i 

|iJ^-*''’vt^ ;i*^S '■*'*- .♦ 

K ‘ . -r.. #*:-r^* •,•' \ 

•. • 


■•■'a^^■*;'4;' . ' •' ■ -*.■ •'' •* ’■.‘7 ‘v< ' ' ■ * ' • ' 

yr: .-' ■■::.■ y- .,• ■'> -■ •■ r--' *•' ‘'^-;- 

M ’■, ■ ■ " •■ ■ -• ‘j «5\' f : <■' ■■ • • ' . ■ • ^-4 I* 

^ ■:- ; -T ^ ■-' / .,.i> 

r- ' Jt * . . 1 .*' ■•. •• \ .. •- '««. » ^ 


■J V 


k • 


K ; 



f. 


I .<* 


•> » 




✓ *=»• 


. ^ #■ 


>* * . ^ ••*■»• ■ 'I • ' • k -I r • ’ ■“ • ^ «v*x- • 

. ^ * ' • • /V y V’ 




•a. 


^ \ 


* . 


* « 




y 


4 






^ • 


■- 


3 v 


•-• «• 


fc. ' 


. 




'■.VT' 


' ^ * 

• “ *• 


» .*» 

• *1 


>^a^■ ■ 


• ' - - • 

. ^ 0 . * * 


V- 


rf ’ ■^V k *• 


'y% 


*% - 


\ J- 


• ■•x '' 






U *V 


.•* A 


V>' - 




I'ts 




'x 


-- '!X' ■ 

: y.\ i'x*.* 


^ * 




♦ •• 


.» 



I ^ .t-i- -: ..T; , > ■ V .-v ,.v ,= * 



Dodworth Upright Pianos. 


STYL^ 1. — 7;^ octave, ivory keys, overstrung scale, three 
stringed, socket action, fret and engraved panels, full 
iron frame, three pedals, swing desk, continuous hinges 
on top and fall. This style in Ebonized, Mahogany, 
or Walnut veneered case. 

Height, 4 feet 6 inches. Width, 5 feet 2 inches. 

Depth, 2 feet 3^ inches. 

Prices: Ebony, $167.50. Mahogany or Walnut, $175.00. 

Including Fancy Hardwood Stool to match. 

WE INVITE Professional Musicians, Teachers, and Pianists to 
thorousrhly examine the NEW DODVOKTH UPKIG-HT 
PIANOS, that we sell for $167.50, $176.00, $185.00, and 
$195.00, (according to style), knowing they must acknowl- 
edge and confess they are 

WORTH DOUBLE THE PRICE, 

THE BEST i/ALUE IN THE MARKET, 

and EQUAL TO THE BEST PIANO MADE. 


For a Complete Catalogue and further information, address 

130 1> WORTH Ac OO., 

108 & no East 125th St, New York. 

The Dodworth Entertainment Bureau and Musical Agency. 

Headqiiartets for the Leading Star Entertainers for Churchy 
Lodge y Club, and all Enterlaininents. 

DODWORTH^S CELEBRATED BAND AND ORCHESTRA, 

MUSICIANS FURNISHED FOR ALL OC ASIONS. 

P. S.—We make a specialty of out of fon n engagements. 

For further particulars address 

V. S. DODWORTH, Manager, 

108-110 East 12oth Street, New York. 




M’ 




« 


m 

’ ''H 'X' \‘ 

■ - [>■..»'■' ') ! . 


kV<A’; 


/ 




-.7 fj 




.1^^ 4 


■i '. #n^' 




,Vil 


(v 


I ■ . > 


».'.:» ' r 


iM 


» • V . I 


I t- 


m 






f i 




^ -■ 




fv' 




I 




• I ' 

/ ’ 'K ' \ 


ft 


• \ . ^ **y ’!»'■ 

X 'vLa 

1 * rflD' »L‘ 




V ^ 


f: 






/J 


;w 


.<1 




» \ 


} > 


IV 








• V 


». 








(w 


’■Of 








►/!W 




* t 


A. 


f//. 




< 1 




■vf:^‘ 


It 






X' 




♦ .V 


[« 


Y 


^Al 


C '■'j 


41 




K 








\ > *_l/"^J 


m 




it 


. ** i 


n \ .9 


\r\. 


U -h 


f/<k 1 n 


/S 


fU 


Ui 


\ 








* ' 






A: 


■HA' 






\\w\ 


A,^ - * 


’ Vl 


,1 


>uT^ 


II "* j. 




\ , 


M t 




¥l 


I 


n 


a 


i).' 








\ ‘‘fj V 


,v - 


u;ii 


}j. 


»> 






iS, 


4 


y>‘w 


m 


th 


h 


V / 








*ir* 


f vX 






HI 


I 




v* ti 


j. < 


' V 


r** 


r?* -ii 


•1 


:)i V, 


« < 


vri 


w, 


s*, 


S 


^ m!* 










.'W 1 


/■ 




< , ‘ 


ii'-r*'V Ik 
A />. > y w 


1 1 * * 


v.^ 


i 


'iC 


I • f 

:l 


\ 


!#. 






I ■ »' 


tlJ 


tfi 


VI 


< ‘t. 




y\% 




A 


•4. • ' 


•i ^ 


* * « I 


V #' 


* V; 


•. \ 


‘ I / 






% 1 % 4fc...! 

1 








* « 


». fh 


» I 


- -. ’"f 


. EiS 


■ ■ '>'j?. 

. ■' 


rti 




I \ M 


4? 






^3 


y;.:V^- }%^ 

•*•;:.;■>' A v: 

' >A ‘ \ .f* ' * ' . * ' 


*.♦ *p 


\ .. 


» • 




'i; 




■*1 ^ « ** ' 


« K. 


4t - 


> 


'^.t. 


/ J. r 




'•• 


•k}- 




I 


fl ■» ■ * 4 

L ' '. » 1 


H.. 










'A^O^ 


> >. 


rnl 


I i 


Y r *1 

■ ■ • :d ' • 

iHls/TTlBi* 1^ . 'uliu^ f • ‘ ^ 


n 


\ • 



7i' f •> 


4 • 


K • tr ’ 


Ai 


iV. 




>Kfk~ 

-'~Yi^''i'-’ ir'^: 


» • ► 



A ” . 





\ 







V. ■ " . . ’ 


I 


I,. ' 

I • 



t .i 



' r 







9 i ^ 


^ ^ ^ J 

° ° 

» 



’’ y °A 



'V ^ 


A*^ ♦“ 

v/' 9*^ • 


O N O -0 9 , 1 

\ ,0^ 

l^^/A\ ^v 

<V ' “ ^ ' A^ O -o „ * >* A <V , s , 

yj^^, °o * 1 ^ 1 ' 




A o. 

“* > y<\ V> 





4°^ 


j 



v^ .y % , v^ ^ 

vv 


" A^'^ -* 

* ‘V ^ • 


,^‘i'V o 

'o.'y* 

y^' .<t^% 

■* ^ ^ ':S:^\n'%v'^ 

^ '^o v^ “ 

Ov^ 







O H O 


\y A 

^ y> ’•yz' ^ v^ 

v-<i^ “ 


<^'^'^vf' » 

j O 

c°^ °0 

'. 0 ^ :M^y •>*_ 


» ' Y<V V> 



o V 

1 


\ 


'Y ^ 





^o o"^ \ 

* %. '"“ 


'<fj. ' • * ,0' 'o * A 




» / 1 


O N 0 


rO^ r^jy ■‘o, 

‘ '. '^«#v ^ ’ 

. o' 

*1 O’ * 

y<V «ft 

’* .fl.^ o^ 

AP<Y * 

<.S'^ aV^ : 

‘Oy ^ 4 V ^ 

Y o 'o,.- A ^ . 

• *■ ' ® ^ 0 ° ° 

♦w^% o j-*’ % y 

^ 0 



• A^''^ •" 

* A^ vl-K • 

o ° " ® >» '^vs 

<l 

'^o v^ » 





^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper pro 



"o K 



Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: j| 

1991 




\0 _ 

' y % yyzjr^,* y 

o „ 0 ,0 ’^.fy ... y 

.o' \> iW'. O 



AUG 


« 


BBRKEEPE 




PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIEffe 
. * y 111 Thomson Park Drive 

t)^ Cranberry Twp., PA 16066 

^ ^ (412)779-2111 


.0' 





<#<• .» ■<5-^ '» 



\y v: 


O N o 







A y- \l/ 

V ‘.5^ 

nikv 
r/Jr ^ 

<A 


0 . V 

1 






* « 




40. 





'O . . « A , <". ■' ..f 

jy c, ^ " ° • ■<tt> 

■^o v^ : 



, »■ ' « -9 o^ 

> _ /kT^Z-, 


O N 0 



» \0 'TV ' vv^/r:# N 

^ / . V ^ / 

, .<y > V ^ 

V / 

vp V •■ 





'o ^ ^ * A 


•/ V •. 



y V "■ 



: 'f V ! I 

" v > 




ck o " o - 

'^o ^ : 





Vo^ 


9-s 

lA '*<' 



A, 'f' 

•^o v^ : 



A • 


>?^ 




0 N 0 


S • • 'x. O 



C* ^ A^ ♦ 



' ,0' ■'^,. '»•** 


\0 vV ’ 

. A V v^ ^ 

yiM&’- \A ■ 

,• V-, ». 


•/ V 



^ <0 


4 P-K 

lA 



o 


M «. csSoAXW^ *7^ 

■^o v^ : 


^ ® >9 o, 





0 


0 

^ 4? •« 

A. K> ^ 

A o 




^ O N 0 



V 

vP V • 


• 0'^ \ ‘■...“ 

k a:, %''. . .. ^ V 



o. ■^o;o'‘ .0 


-u 



<' Ak ^ 
“ ° 



* V 


o ^ K 


' ^ ' 



■» * o. V> \P c 





O , A * A <^ 

* '^v A o' 

* o V 

-o^-''^^-'/ V’^v 

*■ vpv 

rv o -c///Nitf^\\\r • -^^liii«^^o rA'^r 

vA. .WMW^^ ^ . 




■JUNE 69 

N. 


MANCHESTER. 

INDIANA 




"^-o ” 'C 

". 0^ . 


•I o^ » 






